Trouble with a Capital T
by DashaD
Summary: And that rhymes with P and that stands for...psychic? An AU in which huckster/conman Patrick Jane arrives in the small town of Cannon River looking for some rubes to fleece a la Professor Harold Hill. How will his plans change when he meets the skeptical and headstrong Teresa Lisbon? Not as cheesy as it sounds. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Don't worry- nobody will be spontaneously breaking into song or staging elaborately choreographed dance numbers in this fic. But if you've seen the old musical "The Music Man" you know the basic premise I'm (very loosely) working with here. Yes, the movie/show is pretty dated and hokey, but I've always had a soft spot for it. And I've definitely modernized the story and characters here.**

 **You'll notice that I've changed the location of Cannon River from the state of Washington to Oregon. This was intentional- the Oregon coast is an area I know and love, and I hope I've captured the feeling of this special place in this story. Also, I picture the characters being a little younger here, closer to the ages they were at the beginning of the series.**

 **Feedback and reviews appreciated!**

 **Chapter 1**

The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon of the blue-gray waters of the Pacific, creating another glorious spring sunset on the coast. As he drove along the winding ribbon of Highway 101, Patrick Jane glanced over frequently to take in the spectacular sight beside him. The shimmering waves that pounded the rocky shore seemed to beckon him, and on any other day he would have pulled his Airstream to the side of the road to get out and take in the view properly. However, he was so close to his destination, he pushed through with growing anticipation. Just a few more miles and he'd be there.

Finally he saw it, the sign announcing the _Sea Lion Campground and RV Park_ just one mile ahead. He arrived at its entrance, turned down the long gravel driveway and continued through the rusty metal gate. Jane pulled his RV into a spot nestled between a giant spruce and the campground's rental office and its adjoining cottage. He hopped out and gave a quick stretch to his back which was achy and tight after a long day behind the wheel. Then, grinning widely, he bounded over to the door of the light gray house and gave it a few quick raps. A few moments later, his old friend opened the door and greeted him with twinkling eyes and a bone-crunching bear hug that lifted him off the ground.

"Aw, Patrick Jane, you son of a bitch! How're ya doin'?"

The two men clapped each other on the back and broke apart, regarding one another fondly. It had been at least a half dozen years since the friends had seen each other, ever since Jane had left the carnival life they shared behind him and struck out on his own. Yet despite the distance and time that had passed, the bond between them was as close as ever.

"Doing great, Pete, and how about yourself? By the looks of it retirement seems to be treating you well."

"Yeah, I can't complain," the older man sighed contentedly. Pete and his wife had left the carnie circuit a few years earlier and were enjoying the leisurely pace of civilian life. "You know I never thought I'd say it, but I don't miss being on the road one little bit. It's kind of nice waking up every day knowing exactly where I am, and you sure can't beat the view we've got here." He motioned towards the shoreline that was just visible through a break in the trees. The two men looked out over the water for a moment then turned back towards the house.

As they entered the tiny kitchen of the weather-worn building, Pete immediately went to fill the teakettle and placed it on the stove. Patrick smiled and nodded in thanks, then sat down at the small table near the window and looked out again at the surf in the distance. "Yeah, from your letters it sounds like a pretty sweet gig you've got here, my friend. Free rent in exchange for managing the campground, huh?"

Pete joined him at the table and glanced around the sparse but cozy kitchen. "Yep. We like it here a lot. Although Sam went a little stir crazy after the first week, so she ended up taking a job in town working at one of those little shops that sells knickknacks and seashells to the tourists." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs out in front of himself. "So, how about you, Paddy? Your message said you had gotten yourself into a little bit of trouble lately. Not that _that's_ any big surprise," he chuckled softly, the tuffs of his longish gray hair dancing as he laughed.

"Well, you know me, Pete. I always try to keep it interesting," Patrick replied with a smirk. "But unfortunately, my activities of late have resulted in me be effectively barred from every major casino from Reno to Vegas. "

"Ha!" Pete shook his head in amusement. "I always told you that overzealous card-counting of yours was going to get you into hot water. Speaking of which..." He got up from his chair to attend to the kettle and took a box of tea and two cups from the cupboard.

"Well, I'm just embarrassed I got myself caught. You know I've always prided myself on my ability to stay under the radar," Jane responded somewhat sheepishly. "But I overplayed my hand- both literally _and_ figuratively."

"So, where's the next destination, then? Atlantic City? Monte Carlo?" Pete filled the cups with steaming hot water and set them down on the table along with the tea box.

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of… Cannon River." Jane paused for effect, eager to see his old buddy's reaction. Pete clapped his hands in delight and leaned forward. Patrick dipped the tea bag into his cup before continuing. "I was thinking about taking a little sabbatical from card playing and resuming the old 'storefront psychic' routine for a while."

"Well, we'd love to have you around and it's a nice little town," Pete said. "But I'm afraid the money you'd be making here would be chump change compared to what you've been bringing in lately playing poker."

"Meh, it's not about the money Pete- it's about staying sharp, keeping my skills up… and having a little bit of fun while I'm at it." Jane took the teabag out of his cup and sipped his drink through an impish grin.

"Well, I think you'd do well here," Pete said thoughtfully. "It's pretty quiet right now, being the off-season and all. But in a few weeks, the tourists'll come and our sleepy little village practically doubles in size. Plenty of marks to be had."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Patrick replied in an almost gleeful tone. "So, is there any other game in town I should know about? I'd hate to step on someone's toes."

Pete leaned back in his chair again. "Hmm. There was a woman who lived in town, Kristina Frye. She ran a 'spiritual counseling' practice out of her house- a real _woo-woo_ if you get my meaning. But she left town a while back, moved down to Sacramento to work for the California Bureau of Investigation. Helping catch murders and the like"

"Well, how very altruistic of her, using her powers for good instead of evil," Jane retorted sarcastically before taking a sip from his cup. "But all the better for me, leaving behind a built-in client base to draw from."

"It's yours for the taking if you want it, my friend. You could make a killing." Pete paused. "Although, and you'll laugh when I say this, but I can see you going the way of Kristina Frye- leaving the hustle behind and finding an outlet a little more worthy of your talents and skills."

Jane started to chuckle and shake his head incredulously, but Pete was not deterred, his mood suddenly more serious. "No, I mean it, Patrick… You've always been special. You've got a real gift- I've seen it in you since you were kid. I know you like to pass it off as just being observant and simply applying the tricks of the trade. But with your smarts and savvy… you could do a lot more with your life than what you've been doing, and I know you don't mind me speaking my mind and saying so."

Jane paused for a moment, not quite sure how to respond to his friend's gentle but straightforward admonishment. "Wow, Pete. I wasn't exactly expecting the whole 'disappointed dad' thing from you..."

"Now you know I'm not trying to bust your chops here, Paddy. I just want the best for you."

"I know that, Pete, and I appreciate you thinking that I'm capable of some greater purpose or higher calling in life." Jane's tone was breezy, almost dismissive. "But things are good. You don't need to worry about me."

Patrick took a long drink from his cup before changing the subject. "So, what do you say you tell me more about this little town of yours?"

XXXXXX

The next morning Jane awoke to the dull roar of the surf pounding the rocks outside his open Airstream window. He had been up late with Sam and Pete the night before- reminiscing about old times and catching up on stories about mutual friends and acquaintances from their carnival days. He had regaled them with tales of his recent gambling exploits and travels, and they described for him the quiet life they were now leading in Cannon River, a village of just over 600 people a couple of miles down the road.

By the time he roused himself out of bed, Sam had already left for work and Pete was puttering around the campground, cleaning up after guests who had checked out a few hours earlier. It was mid-morning by the time Patrick bid his friend farewell for the day and set off on foot for the two-mile trek into town. He was eager to check out this Cannon River and see what it was like.

He always enjoyed a nice long stroll, and on this morning it was especially invigorating. As he walked along the highway he drank in the sights and smells of his new surroundings- the periwinkle hydrangea bushes and windblown pines that dotted the roadside; the emerald green grass; the towering moss-covered spruce trees that rose up from sides of hills, casting their long shadows on the road. The air smelled of fresh rain and the salty sea. After spending the last several months in the desert, it was like an oasis for Jane's senses, and he relished in it.

As he walked his mind went back to Pete's words from the previous evening. Pete had always been a father figure to him and had no qualms about speaking the truth as he saw it, especially when he thought Patrick needed to hear it. Nonetheless, Jane had been slightly taken aback by his little dressing-down. It seemed to come out of nowhere, Jane thought, and even more curious, it was almost as if Pete were passing judgment on their old life.

Perhaps, Jane supposed, the time away from the circuit had Pete waxing philosophical about the ethical quandaries of carnie life, thoughts one simply didn't entertain when you were immersed in it. Jane had had such feelings himself over the years, when pangs of conscience sneaked up on him from time to time. But in the grand scheme of things, he rationalized, the life he lived and the small-scale cons he pulled did no real harm to any one. He was a just small-time hustler, and there was nothing wrong with that.

When he reached town, he quickly got the lay of the land. The heart of the small downtown, which was only about five or six blocks long, lay on both sides of the Cannon River, a lazy, curvy stream that emptied into a small bay. Jane made mental note of the various places he saw- a few restaurants, various shops, a post office, etc.- all the places you'd expect to see in a town it's size. A giant tree-covered hill with houses overlooking the town provided a lush backdrop to the picturesque village. Such an effortlessly charming place, Jane could see why Sam and Pete decided to settle here.

Making his way back to the main road, he made the happy discovery of a vacant storefront next to a tiny bookshop near the market, perfectly situated in what seemed to be the hub of activity. As he took at out his cell phone and began dialing the phone number listed on the _For Rent_ sign, he felt a rumbling in his stomach. It was almost 11, and he hadn't eaten a bite. As he left a voicemail message for his perspective landlord, he glanced across the street and saw a small café, _Minelli's Coffeeshop and Bakery_ which he had noticed earlier in his walkabout. A hand-painted sign hanging in its window, _Specialty Coffees and Teas,_ caught his attention and sounded particularly promising.

He jogged across the road and entered the shop where his eyes were immediately drawn to the extensive list of teas written on the chalkboard above the counter. He joined the end of the long line of customers and perused the offerings, then peeked into the bakery case. He was so engrossed with the task of deciding that by the time he reached the front of line, he hadn't even noticed the petite brunette woman standing behind the counter waiting to take his order. He looked over and his eyes met hers- the brightest, clearest pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen in his life.

He didn't know it at the time, but Patrick Jane was in trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! This is my first attempt at an AU, and while the source material may seem like a strange match for The Mentalist, I appreciate everyone taking a chance on it! Onward...**

 **Chapter 2**

It was a rare occurrence for Patrick Jane to be at a loss for words; he almost always had a pithy comment or witty remark at the ready. But as he stood there in the middle of the bustling shop, he was, for a moment, struck dumb. The woman behind the counter regarded him expectantly, briefly looking down to busy herself wiping crumbs off the counter, then returned her wide eyes upward to his. For a second or two, which to him felt much longer, he simply stood there, taking in her clear-eyed gaze and the faint smile that played at her lips. He quickly recovered, and while this momentary lapse of composure was probably (and, hopefully, he thought) imperceptible to her, he immediately felt flustered and foolish. What the hell was wrong with him?

"What can I get for you?" her voice calm but efficient.

Patrick nodded towards the half-empty pastry case. "Well, I was hoping for one of your blueberry muffins, but it looks like you're all out."

She responded with an apologetic shrug. "Yeah, sorry about that. We're usually out of those by 8:30."

"Hmm… well then perhaps that's an indication you should make more of them," Patrick's voice was full of its usual bravado. Thank god he hadn't totally lost sense of his faculties.

"Or maybe it means you should get here earlier," she replied in a cool, even tone without missing beat. The tall redheaded woman working the espresso machine nearby stifled a giggle, and the two women exchanged an amused look.

For a split second Jane couldn't tell if her remark was meant to be snarky or flirtatious (he was hoping the latter). Her arched eyebrow and playful smirk suggested that it was probably a mixture of the two.

"So, what would you recommend then, seeing as I can't have what I _really_ want?" His eyes settled on her pale face once more, giving him another opportunity to study her delicate, pale features, as well as to gauge her reaction to his innuendo-laden remark.

He was relieved when she gave a little laugh, shook her head, then responded in a matter of fact tone, "Well, I'm partial to the bear claws myself, but the raspberry scones Grace just took out of the oven are always amazing."

"Then I'll have one of those." Patrick removed his wallet from his vest pocket as she grabbed a tissue paper, took the scone out of the case, and placed it on a plate. "And I'd like a cup of Earl Grey tea, please. Milk at the bottom of the cup first, then add the water- hot as you can make it- and keep the bag or diffuser out, if you will."

She gave him a somewhat incredulous look then glanced back at her coworker. "Did you catch all that, Grace?"

"I got it, boss," Grace responded with a wide smile.

Patrick handed her the cash and watched as she punched keys on the register and counted out his change. Most of her dark wavy hair was pulled back in a functional ponytail at the nape of her neck, but a few stray locks fell around her face, which she impatiently tucked behind her ears. As she closed the register drawer, he realized that he was practically ogling her, and he casually looked away lest she catch him in the act. He didn't want her to think he was some sort of lecherous creep.

"Here you are," the tall redhead interrupted his thoughts, setting his cup and saucer down on the counter in front of him. He thanked her, accepted his change (which he promptly put in the tip jar) and scanned the room to find a place to sit. The sunny café was filled with customers most of whom were seated on mismatched chairs around large oak tables or on high stools at the counter by the picture windows that overlooked the street. He spotted a seating area with a couch by the wood-burning stove in the corner and made his way towards it. He sank into the worn leather and began preparing his tea, settling in to watch the goings on around him.

Having spent much of his life traveling from place to place, out of habit Jane immediately began scoping out the place, looking for clues or information that might provide him some insight into this little community he was hoping to ingratiate himself into. Most of the customers seemed to be regulars there for their usual coffee klatches with friends and neighbors. There was a lot of talking across tables and people welcoming one another with waves or hellos as people entered the shop. The entire atmosphere struck him as typical of many of the small towns he had been in the past- close-knit and genuinely friendly.

His eyes kept returning to the front counter, however, where the brunette with the emerald green eyes was casually chatting with her coworker. The early lunch rush seemed to be over and the two women were talking amiably and laughing together as they worked.

Something about her was utterly fascinating to him. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, although she certainly was. Their brief exchange had revealed her to be (in his quick estimation) intelligent, confident, and quick-witted. She hadn't been put off by his cheeky line, nor had she been taken in by it the way a more naïve woman may have been. And she could clearly hold her own in the repartee department. All of these were qualities he found absolutely captivating in a woman and made him eager to speak with her again.

He got up and strolled back to the counter, where the line of waiting customers had subsided and the two women were enjoying a coffee break. She saw him approaching and smiled.

"So, the tea and scone met your approval I presume?"

"Yes, very nice, thank you. My compliments to the baker." He nodded toward Grace, who was now making her way back to the kitchen with an empty tray from the pastry case that needed restocking. He turned back to the brunette. "So, I take it you are Ms… Minelli? The owner of this fine establishment?"

She laughed lightly. "No, I'm Teresa. Teresa Lisbon. Minelli is the owner. I'm just managing the place for him."

"Managing?" Patrick, always the wordsmith, raised his eyebrows at her use of the present progressive. She noticed his quizzical expression.

"Virgil's on a sabbatical of sorts- sailing around the world." She pointed to the collection of a dozen or so postcards taped to the front of the register, and he leaned in to take a closer look. Amongst the postcards from far-flung places like Tierra del Fuego and Jakarta was a grainy snapshot he presumed to be of Minelli himself, an older, slightly graying man smiling broadly and posing in front of an impressive-looking sailboat.

Jane turned his attention back towards Teresa as she continued. "He needed someone to run the place while he's gone and that's me."

"Looks like he's living the dream," Jane responded with genuine admiration. "My name's Patrick. Patrick Jane." He extended his hand to hers.

"Nice to meet you, Patrick Jane," she replied as they shook then released hands. "So, what about you? Are you just passing through for the day or are you here on vacation?"

"I'm staying with some friends who live just outside of town. I'm sort of between jobs at the moment and looking for a place to hang my hat. So what about you? How long have you lived here?"

Teresa regarded him somewhat suspiciously. "What makes you ask that?"

"Well, your accent-it isn't regional. It's more… Midwestern, perhaps?"

She shook her head slightly at his conjecture. "Nope, sorry to disappoint you. I was born and raised in the valley, just sixty miles from here, over the coast range."

"Really? Hmm. With the cadence of your speech and the sound of your vowels, I could have sworn you were from the Midwest… Chicago maybe?"

Teresa's eyes widened with surprise. "Both my parents were from Chicago."

"Ah, there it is!" Jane responded, nodding with satisfaction.

She shook her head slightly in astonishment. "I guess I inherited more from them than I realized. You've got a good ear."

"Meh, it comes with the territory," Jane replied, trying his best to sound modest.

"And what territory would that be?"

"Oh, I've lived all over," he answered simply. He was hesitant to explain his carnie background to her at the moment. People usually responded to that information with various levels of skepticism or worse, outright hostility and he had no interest in spoiling this, their very first meeting.

"I guess you could say I had a rather unconventional childhood… moved around a lot."

"Like an army brat?"

Jane chucked softly. "Yes, just like that. Except _completely_ different."

She didn't seem to mind his vague response. She just nodded slightly, then grabbed a bin off a nearby cart to begin bussing tables.

Jane caught up with her, sipped the last remnants of his tea and placed the cup and saucer gently into the bin she was holding. He glanced out the nearby window. "So, do you happen to know the person who owns that building across the street, the one with the vacant storefront?"

"Um… I think it's one of Bret Stiles' properties. He owns about half of downtown," she replied, then paused. Jane could tell her curiosity was piqued and he readied himself in anticipation for the question he knew was coming next. "So, what is it that you _do_ , exactly?" she inquired.

There it was. He took a deep breath and replied evenly, "I'm a psychic."

Jane noticed right away the corner of her mouth quirk slightly upward and tiny frown lines begin to appear on her forehead. Not a totally unexpected reaction; it was one he had seen numerous times before.

"A psychic? You mean like communicating with the dead… predicting the future… reading people's minds? That kind of thing?"

"That's right."

Yep, this woman is a skeptic, Jane thought to himself. No doubt about it. Moreover, the mood between them had suddenly shifted ever so slightly. Her face had hardened a bit and there was an edge in her voice that wasn't there before. For some reason, this bothered him greatly. He was just about to ask her about it when Grace's voice interrupted them.

"Hey boss, there's a phone call for you. It's the bean roaster- he's got a question about next week's order."

"Thanks, Grace, I'll be right there." Teresa turned back to Jane. "Excuse me."

She walked away to attend to her work, and Jane decided it was time to take his leave as well. As he strode toward the doorway and glanced back at her, he decided he would definitely be back to see her again, sooner rather than later.

He was bound and determined to improve her opinion of him.

XXX

At just past four o'clock later that afternoon Teresa bid farewell to the final customers of the day, turned the sign hanging in the doorway to the _Sorry, We're Closed_ side, and locked the door. Her body was weary and her feet ached, but the day's steady stream of business had made the time fly by. She plunked herself down on the stool near the register and began totaling up the day's receipts.

A few minutes later Grace emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a red checkered dishcloth.

"All finished up back there?" Teresa inquired.

"Yep. The dishes are all washed and everything's wiped down, ready for the morning. How about you?"

Teresa finished the final notation in the record book with the flourish of her pen and closed it. "All done." She hopped down from her perch.

"We have a few rolls left from this morning," Grace said, trying to sound casual. "I thought I might bring them down to the firehouse, see if the guys there want them."

Teresa cast a knowing smirk over to her younger coworker. "You mean to see if _Rigsby_ wants one?"

A blush started to rise over Grace's cheeks. "They're not just for Wayne," she protested weakly.

Teresa laughed softly. "It's fine, Grace. Go ahead. It's probably better you deliver them yourself anyway." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "It's kind of pathetic when he comes around here at the end of the day, skulking around like a giant Labrador begging for scraps from the dinner table."

"He doesn't do that!" Grace objected, again somewhat feebly. She threw the dishtowel at Teresa, who caught it just before it smacked her in the face. The two women laughed heartily.

A contented smile lingered on Teresa's face as Grace reached under the counter and gathered her things to get ready to leave. In the short time Teresa had been in Cannon River the two of them had become good friends, close even. This was unusual for her as someone who didn't really have a lot of close friendships in her life. In Portland, where she had been living up until just eight months earlier, she was always too busy with her work to have any real social life outside of the occasional outings with coworkers. This had always suited her just fine, but now she wondered why she had chosen to live without it for so long.

"Speaking of men…" Grace leaned up against the counter. "What's the story with that guy this morning? You know - the blonde one with curly hair, wearing the suit,"

"Oh, him. Yeah, you'll love this," Teresa started. She mirrored her friend's stance and leaned in a bit before continuing. "Apparently he just arrived in town and is thinking of opening up a shop across the street… He's a _psychic_." Her voice was thick with sarcasm.

"Really?"

"Yep, that's what he said," Teresa replied. "Although if you ask me, he seems more like a modern-day snake oil salesman than any kind of spiritual medium."

Grace paused, a thoughtful expression washing over her face. "Well, I know you tend to be a little wary about these things, but he _could_ be the real deal. I know you didn't get to know Kristina very well, but she had a real gift and she helped a lot of people in this town."

Teresa hesitated before responding. While she didn't share her friend's beliefs in the supernatural, she certainly didn't want to say something that would make it seem as though she was disrespecting them.

"I'm sure your friend Kristina _was_ genuine and had good intentions. But this guy, Jane? Seems a little too slick to be totally on the level."

The two women walked out of the shop and paused on the stoop as Teresa deadbolted the door. "So, you want to meet over at the pub later? Have some crab cakes and beer on their patio?"

"Aww, I wish I could, but I'm teaching my programing class over at the community center tonight," Grace replied with genuine disappointment. "How about later this week instead?"

"Sounds like a plan. 'Night." Teresa replied with a small wave and the two friends parted ways.

She turned up the street and began her trek home, hiking along the switchback road that zigzagged up the hill toward her house. She breathed in deeply with each stride, inhaling the cool, damp air as she walked. The sun was still high in the sky, but the temperature was already starting to drop slightly, and she wrapped her cardigan sweater tightly around her body as she continued onward.

As she walked, she thought back on her conversation with Grace about this so-called psychic they had met, reflecting on her younger friend's open-minded and sunny disposition, so trusting and eager to see the best in people. It stood in stark contrast to her own more skeptical nature. Not that she considered herself to be a total cynic- she had just seen and experienced enough to know that she trusted her gut instincts and first impressions of people.

This guy- this Patrick Jane character, she decided, was sketchy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you again to everyone who has been following and/or commenting on this! I never realized how important this kind of feedback and support is until I began writing stories myself. (I've been a "ghost reader" on this site for only a little while, but I almost feel like I should go back and review every piece I've ever read here- show my appreciation for all you talented writers out there!)**

 **Chapter 3**

"It's a nice little set-up you've got here, Patrick," Samantha Barsocky commented approvingly as she set down her shopping bag and surveyed the sunlit room. Jane was in the corner with rolled up shirtsleeves and a small paintbrush in hand, finishing touchups of the taupe-y gray paint he was using to cover up the blinding white that had previously adorned the walls of his new shop. He looked over at her and grinned.

"Thanks, it's coming along. Certainly looks much less like a hospital waiting room than it did two days ago."

In the time since Jane had picked up the keys from his landlord just a few days earlier, he had quickly transformed the small shop from a bare, stark-looking space into one that was homey and inviting. He had decided to forgo the over-the-top theatrical trimmings that had once adorned his "Psychic Boy Wonder" tent during his carnival days (not a caftan scarf or red velvet curtain in sight). Instead, he had adopted a more simple, New Age-y aesthetic with clean, simple lines, contemporary furnishings, and plenty of earth tones. There was a small cream-colored settee and chair by the front door; a Zen rock water fountain that trickled softly in the corner; and gauzy curtains on the windows that filtered light through them, creating a soft, hazy glow in the room.

Sam began emptying the contents of her bag onto the desk. "I picked up those business cards you ordered," she said, holding up the small box in her hand. "Along with a few other things at the office supply store."

"Thanks, Sam, these are perfect," he said, as he took the box from her and inspected the sample card stapled to the front. "And tell Pete thanks again for dropping off the furniture this morning. Just a few more things to finish up and I'll be ready to open in a few days, maybe even by the weekend."

"Can I give you a lift home, or are you going to be here for a while?"

"You go on ahead. I've got a little painting left to do, and then I thought I'd take a walk around. I've been so busy the past few days I haven't even met my new neighbors yet." Jane tilted his head in the direction of the bookstore that shared a wall with his shop.

"Well, alright. Don't you be too late, though. Pete's smoking salmon for supper tonight." She gave him a gentle pat on the arm and flashed a warm smile as she left, which Patrick returned in full force.

A sweet, almost wistful expression settled on his face as he watched her leave and close the door behind her. Spending the last few days with Sam and Pete had reminded Jane just how much he had missed their camaraderie and friendship these last several years. He rarely found himself missing the carnie life, but he had missed _them_. And the way he figured it, he probably wouldn't be in Cannon River for long- through the summer and perhaps into the fall at the latest. He wanted to appreciate this time with them for as long as it lasted.

Jane didn't consider the storefront psychic routine a scam, per se. It was just a short-term job he liked to do from time to time to refresh and recharge between his more elaborate, high-stakes cons. There was a certain beauty in its simplicity. He would move to a small town where the rent was low but the foot traffic was high. (Places with a decent-sized tourist trade, like Cannon River, worked especially well.) He'd drum up business amongst the townies and tourists through word of mouth. (Considering the fact that Kristina Frye was able to make a living here meant this would certainly be doable.)

And then he would watch and wait, keeping his eyes open for that Big Fish client that would inevitably emerge from the crowd. This wouldn't be some run-of-the-mill customer coming in for a twenty dollar tarot card reading or looking to have their palms read. No, this particular mark had to be one with the means and gullibility to make the big payout he was looking for; someone willing to hand over thousands of dollars to contact their dearly departed grandmother or communicate with their dead cat Fluffy. Finding this person, baiting them properly, then patiently reeling them in was a process at which Jane had grown increasingly adept over the years, and for him the thrill of the hunt was almost as satisfying as the monetary reward at the end of it.

After he had finished his work and carefully washed out the brush in the sink in the backroom office, he grabbed his gray woolen suit coat off the back of his chair and exited the shop. As he locked the door, he could overhear a conversation drifting out of the open doorway of the bookstore just a few feet away:

"Nope. Not that one," came a cool, no-nonsense voice.

"What are trying to say, huh? That I'm not smart enough to read this book?"

Jane peered around the doorframe to see a tall, dark-haired man in a firefighter's uniform holding up a copy of Crime and Punishment, directing his question and exasperated expression towards the shopkeeper standing nearby.

"It has nothing to do with intelligence. Dostoyevsky requires a level of commitment and fortitude that, based on what I know of your limited attention span, you don't have." The other man's tone was clipped and even, but not altogether unfriendly.

"Oh, I see. Well then, based on your _expert knowledge_ of my reading habits, what would you recommend instead?" The question was asked in an amused, sarcastic tone; it was clear to Jane that the two men were friends giving each other a good ribbing.

The man behind the counter paused before offering his monotone response. "Well, I just got in a copy of the latest Captain Underpants book. Every eight year old I've talked to has been raving about it."

"Oh, you are asking for it buddy!" The firefighter smirked and reared the book back as if he were about to chuck it across the room like a football. Only then did his friend crack a miniscule smile. Almost simultaneously the two of them noticed Jane standing there and turned towards him.

The taller man greeted him almost sheepishly as he tucked the book back onto the shelf. "Hey there, how's it going?"

"Fine, thank you," Jane replied cheerfully as he stepped inside. He scanned the bright room that was lined with teak bookshelves. It was a tiny shop but meticulously organized and tidy-looking. Every book was lined up evenly against the edges of the shelves, and there were neat, hand-written labels at the tops of the bookcases indicating the different sections- biographies, mysteries, classics, etc. Jane eyed a nearby shelf filled with Shakespeare's sonnets and plays appreciatively.

"This is a great place you've got here, a wonderful selection, Mr…?"

"Cho, Kimball Cho," the man behind the counter replied simply.

"Pleasure meeting you. I'm Patrick Jane, your new neighbor next door." He grinned widely at the man who remained straight-faced, only nodding slightly in response to the introduction. Instantly recognizing that his usual charm wasn't going to work so readily on the stoic shopkeeper, Jane turned his attention to the friend and extended his hand forward.

"Patrick Jane. Nice to meet you."

"Hi. Wayne Rigsby. Good to meet you, too, man," he replied, shaking Jane's hand enthusiastically. "So, uh, what kind of business are you in?"

Patrick reached into his jacket pocket, removed one of his recently procured business cards and handed it to him. "I'm a psychic," he proclaimed solemnly before launching into his usual spiel, "Offering a wide variety of services including private readings, communication sessions with those who have passed to the great beyond, as well as offering spiritual guidance to those in need." He stepped forward and began to offer one of the cards to Cho, but quickly retracted it seeing the man's rigid, fixed stance, his arms crossed firmly across his chest.

Rigsby, on the other hand, seemed intrigued by Jane's little pitch and regarded the card in his hand with wide, curious eyes.

"Wow. So, if you're a psychic… does that mean you can read minds? Like, can you tell what I'm thinking right now?" His voice was filled with an almost child-like wonder tempered with just a dash of uncertainty.

Jane gave a light laugh. "Sure, I could tell you what you're thinking right now." He leaned in and whispered semi-seriously, "But I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your friend here."

His little deflection had the predictable effect. Rigby laughed nervously and thrust the card into his pants pocket and swiftly changed the subject. "So, I'm just getting off work and Cho's about to close up shop for the day. We're going down to the fire station to shoot some pool, and you're welcome to come along if you like. Being new in town, you might not have met many people yet…"

Jane was about to accept the invitation, genuinely struck by the kindness of the gesture. There certainly was something to be said for small town hospitality. However, at that exact moment he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing out the picture window, he saw Teresa and Grace closing up the café across the street and jogging across the road. He turned back to the two men in front of him.

"Well, I would love to join you fellas, but there _is_ someplace I need to be at the moment. Some other time perhaps?" he replied brightly before popping out the door and walking hurriedly down the sidewalk in the direction of the two women.

Based on the direction they were headed, he quickly deduced they were probably on their way to the pub located on the side street overlooking the bay, and he made the impulsive decision to follow them there. Since their initial meeting a few days earlier, Jane had returned to the café several times, but unfortunately the timing had never been quite right. On each occasion Teresa had either been too busy with her work or slammed with waiting customers to engage in anything beyond brief, somewhat curt small talk, which he found incredibly frustrating. But now here was a golden opportunity to talk to her again, get to know her a little better and begin to convince her that he wasn't the shady character she probably assumed him to be. (Although the fact that he was practically stalking her at the moment didn't exactly help his case in this regard.)

He watched as the two women arrived at the pub and seated themselves on the sun-drenched patio. Thinking it would be a little too obvious if he went up to them right away, he ducked into the dimly lit bar, where he decided to bide his time for a few minutes, order himself a drink, then make his way out to the deck where he could bump into them "spontaneously".

He approached the bartender who was polishing wine glasses and carefully placing them on the brass rack above her. Her eyes smoldered when she saw him coming towards her, and she slowly brushed a lock of her short dark hair away from her forehead as he got closer. It was a completely superfluous action seeing as there wasn't a single strand out of place on her perfectly-coifed head.

"What can I get for you?" she asked, her eyes darkening.

"I'd like a pint of whatever IPA you have on tap, please," Patrick replied as he took out his wallet and laid a few bills on the shiny mahogany surface of the bar.

She filled a glass, placed it on a cardboard coaster and slid it towards him. "There you are, _Mr. Jane_."

He smiled with faint amusement. "Well, now there's a neat trick. How do you know my name?"

She paused before answering, arching one of her meticulously manicured brows. "Your landlord, Bret Stiles- he's a regular here. He mentioned the other day that he had a new tenant, 'A dapper young man in an impeccable three-piece suit.' He told me to keep an eye out for you."

"Oh, really? And why would you want to keep an eye out for me?" Jane responded coyly. This woman clearly wanted to engage in a little shameless flirting, and he was more than willing to indulge her for a moment or two. Making her acquaintance might prove to be useful.

"Well, Bret knows what I like. He found you… _interesting_ and probably figured I'd feel the same way. My name's Erica. Erica Flynn."

"Lovely to meet you, Erica." Jane shook her hand and took a sip of his beer. "Well, I certainly have been making my share of introductions lately in this friendly little town of yours. I just met a couple of guys over at the bookstore down the street… and I think I know those two ladies out there on your patio." Jane nodded towards the doorway leading outside where he could see Teresa and Grace chatting with the waitress taking their order. "Aren't those the two women who run the bakery?"

"Minelli's place? Yep, that's them." Erica's response was brusque as she picked up another glass and resumed her polishing.

It was obvious to Jane that there was more she wanted to say and it wouldn't take much prodding to get her to say it. "I take it you're not friends," he said simply.

"Oh, it's not that. Grace? She's a real sweetheart," Erica began in a vaguely condescending tone. "Lived here all her life, as nice as she can be. But that friend of hers? Different story altogether."

"What makes you say that?"

Erica set down her glass and leaned forward. "She's lived in Cannon River for months and has hardly said two words to me in all the times she's been in here. Kind of a stuck-up sort, if you ask me."

"Hmm.. perhaps she's just naturally reserved," Jane countered.

"Or perhaps she's just self-conscious. Maybe she knows what people in this town have been saying about her ever since she arrived here."

Damn, Jane thought. This woman was more eager to share dirt than any gossip he had ever met in his life. But he knew that as the small town barkeep Erica had a wealth of information at her disposal, and her willingness to disclose it would no doubt come in handy to him in the future. So he decided to play along.

"Don't be shy. Let's hear it." He leaned in closer.

"Well, I just think it's a little odd. Virgil Minelli decides to take this trip around the world and instead of closing up his shop or hiring someone in town to take over, he brings in this Teresa Lisbon person. A woman half his age who nobody knows is suddenly in charge of the place. _And_ she's living in his house while he's away. Now I ask you, does that sound like a strictly professional relationship to you?"

"No, it does not." Jane tapped his forefinger to lips thoughtfully. Despite what Erica was suggesting, however, he had difficulty jumping to the same conclusion she had regarding any supposed romantic relationship between Teresa and the absent Minelli. Nothing about Teresa screamed _kept woman_ and the way she had spoken of him the other day gave Jane the impression that this Minelli was more of a paternal figure in her life than anything else.

Yet at the same time he _was_ genuinely intrigued. What _was_ her story? How had she ended up in this small town where she didn't know a single person and what life had she left behind in doing so? It was time for him to try and find out.

Jane picked his drink up off the bar and stood upright. "Well, I thank you for the beer, Erica, _and_ the enlightening conversation."

"My pleasure, Patrick. I hope to see you again soon."

Jane flashed his most dazzling, game show host smile, nodded, and strolled out onto the patio.

Time to renew his acquaintance with Ms. Teresa Lisbon.

 **A/N Sorry for the lack of actual Lisbon/Jane interactions in this chapter. I intended to put it in here at the end but couldn't quite make it work. Next chapter, I promise!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for the tremendous feedback- it really does keep me going! Some people have asked about Erica's part in all of this, and all I can say is that she** ** _will_** **have an important role in the plot later on. Until then…**

 **Chapter 4**

"So _this_ is the beginning of the summer rush Virgil warned me about." Teresa stretched her tired feet out in front of her and hooked them on the rung of the nearby chair. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun soothe and envelope her as she reached her arms above her and allowed her entire body to sink into the cushioned patio seat. She and Grace had just arrived at the pub, and after the long day they had had a happy hour complete with a every variety of battered and fried foods from the menu definitely seemed to be in order.

"You know, maybe we should start looking for our summer help now," Grace started as she poured herself a glass of beer from the pitcher the waitress had just delivered. "Get someone hired and trained in before Memorial Day. If we're just looking for someone to bus tables and work in the kitchen, maybe one of the kids from my class would want to do it."

"That's a great idea," Teresa replied, rubbing her aching thigh and sitting herself upright. She took the pitcher and began pouring a glass for herself. "So, how's your class going by the way? Do you see the future Bill Gates or Steve Wozniak amongst any of your fresh-faced young scholars?"

Grace gave a little shrug. "It's hard to tell. They're fourteen; all most of them care about is programming their phones or getting to the next level on Minecraft."

"That reminds me of my brothers growing up," Teresa remembered with a chuckle. "I practically had to have their Nintendo controllers surgically removed from their hands to get them to the dinner table every night."

Grace nodded and grinned as she took a long drink from her frosty glass. "I have to say, though, they're a pretty good group of kids. Although I think I caught Jason Wylie trying to hack into NORAD when I wasn't looking, so I suppose I'd better keep a closer eye on him."

The two women began to laugh until they noticed the light around them shift and a shadow being cast on their table. They looked up to see Patrick Jane standing a few feet away, a drink in his hand and a small smile on his face. The rays of the sun shone through his curly mop of hair giving it the appearance of a blonde, glowing halo.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting, I just saw you two sitting out here and wanted to say hello."

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Jane," Grace replied brightly, then after a moment added, "Would you like to sit down and join us?"

Teresa shot a not-so-subtle sideways glance at her friend, which did not go unnoticed by Jane. He paused for a moment and looked over at her with raised eyebrows, as if silently asking her consent, and she immediately felt her face tinge pink with embarrassment. Just because she was wary of him and his so-called psychic shtick, there was no reason for her to be rude or unfriendly. "Yes, by all means, join us, Jane," she offered somewhat weakly.

"Call me Patrick, please," he replied, "and thank you." He pulled up a chair and seated himself across from them, his eyes twinkling as he crossed his legs casually in front of himself. Why did she get the feeling that he was fully aware of her present discomfort at his being there and that he was secretly enjoying it?

"So, you've been busy," Grace began. "We've noticed you moving into your new store across the street from us."

"Yes, I am almost ready to open up for business in fact," he answered. "Just a few more things to get done, and I'll be raring to go"

Teresa couldn't resist. "Oh, still unpacking all your magic crystals and Ouija boards?"

Her snarky comment didn't seem to faze him at all; if anything he seemed slightly amused by it. "As a matter of fact, Ms. Lisbon, I tend not to rely so heavily on such tools of the trade in my practice. Not to besmirch those who do, but I don't find them to be particularly useful. On the contrary I feel that they… get in the way more than anything else."

"Get in the way of _what_ , exactly?" she countered without hesitation, trying not to roll her eyes. As far as she could tell this guy was just spouting some pre-rehearsed line of bull that he had probably used a thousand times before. And with his dazzling smile and breezy charm, he was no doubt used to it going unchecked much of the time. She, however, had no qualms about holding his feet to the fire a bit.

"Well, most psychics will use such items- the crystal ball, the astrological charts, etc. as conduits, a way to connect the person they're reading with the greater forces at work. _I_ can read a person much more clearly just by looking into their eyes, focusing on the information and energy they're sending me directly. The tarot cards and tealeaves? For me they're just props, window dressing, really."

Teresa regarded him for a moment. Was all this just part of the sales pitch he used to reel people in? Or did he actually believe this drivel he was spouting? Her skepticism was undoubtedly written all over her face, and when he looked over at her, his eyes danced impishly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was daring her to speaking it out loud.

"So, can you really read people just by looking at them?" Grace asked, genuinely curious.

"Certainly," Jane replied, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "I could tell you a little about yourself, if you're up for it."

"Okay," Grace replied eagerly. She moved forward slightly as well, grinning from ear to ear.

"Careful, Grace," Teresa cautioned. "He hasn't quoted you a price yet."

"Oh, don't worry about that. This one's on the house," Jane responded, flashing her a sly wink and smile.

He returned his attention back to Grace and looked intently into her eyes. Her face was now fixed with a blank expression; Teresa could tell she was trying valiantly to betray as little emotion as possible. But Jane kept his eyes trained on hers and after a few moments, her stoic façade cracked with the slight upturn of her lips as she stifled an uncomfortable laugh, which seemed to be his cue to begin. His cadence varied as he spoke- sometimes slow, other times in an almost rapid-fire pace, each sentence punctuated by deliberate, carefully-timed pauses:

"In you, Grace, I see an open, kind-hearted person. You've lived in Cannon River your entire life, I suspect, and while you're content enough with your life here, you harbor other ambitions as well… perhaps pursuing a different career path or moving to a new city. And I believe… you are in love (Grace colored visibly, quickly averting her eyes) or at least in the early stages of a new relationship. Yes, very early, in fact. You think this man could even be 'the one', although you haven't dared speak this hope out loud. You will be happy, Grace… with whatever path you choose or wherever this relationship leads. _That_ I can tell you with certainty," he finished solemnly.

Teresa couldn't help but openly roll her eyes now. "Oh, come on. Everything you just said was about as specific as a horoscope from the newspaper; broad generalizations and a couple of lucky guesses, nothing more."

Rather than respond directly to Teresa's accusation, Jane turned to her friend. "Grace, would you say that my reading of you was accurate?"

"Sure," she answered obligingly with a slight shrug.

"Well, _of course_ it sounded accurate." Teresa began. "Most people in their twenties are thinking about romantic relationships and contemplating their professional choices. It doesn't take a psychic to know that. You just picked up on Grace's reactions to what you were saying and let them be your guide to what you would say next. It's a clever maneuver, Jane, but it doesn't mean you're reading her mind."

There was pregnant pause, during which Teresa took a sip from her glass, almost defiantly maintaining eye contact with him. She was surprised that he wasn't going on the defensive in the face of her pointed barbs; if anything he seemed to be entertained and energized their little exchange. It spoke to a confidence (or perhaps an arrogance) he possessed, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Grace, who was clearly enjoying the spirited debate playing out in front of her, broke the silence and turned to Jane.

"Why don't you do a reading on Teresa?" she suggested mischievously.

"Ah, now that could be interesting," Jane replied. "But I doubt Ms. Lisbon would agree to that. You see, she's about 95% certain that I'm not on the level, but she can't be absolutely sure. I suspect it would wound her pride a little too deeply to be proven wrong so early in our acquaintance."

Teresa shook her head at this juvenile attempt to provoke her. "Oh, so now you're basically calling me _chicken_ to get me to participate in this little charade of yours?"

"Has it worked?" he countered without missing a beat, his eyes blazing.

Teresa straightened herself up in her chair and turned to face him head on. "Sure. Give it your best shot."

She took a deep breath in (hopefully he hadn't made note of _that_ ; he would no doubt see it as a sign of nervousness, which of course it was) and steadied herself for what she considered to be nothing more than the equivalent of a childish staring contest.

He began just as he had with Grace, leaning forward a bit and staring attentively into her eyes, keeping his own expression neutral and emotionless. After only a few seconds of holding eye contact with him, however, she suddenly found herself faltering under the intensity of his gaze. His hazy blue-green eyes seemed to pierce through her, almost as if he were hypnotizing her into some kind of trance. She fought to maintain her composure, telling herself how ridiculous it was that she should be flustered by such a silly exercise. But the harder she tried, the more unsettled she became, and she could feel her cheeks color with embarrassment.

A few agonizing moments later, he blinked unexpectedly and she noticed his face soften. There was an almost imperceptible flicker in his eyes, nothing like his usual cheeky or playful expression, but one that seemed almost natural and unguarded. She unconsciously let go of her breath, which up until that point she didn't even realize she had been holding.

He leaned back a bit and put his game face back on, the fleeting moment that had passed between them gone as quickly as it had come. He looked down briefly, as if he were gathering his thoughts, then turned back to the two women in full showman mode, the look on his face as cool and collected as ever.

"So, what'd you see?" Grace asked impatiently.

"I see an outsider. You're someone who hasn't lived here long, who's been accepted into the community well enough, although perhaps not as fully embraced as you'd like to be. You're a naturally reserved person, so making friends in a new place, especially a small town like this, has been a challenge for you. But your customers like you and you've clearly become close with your good friend Grace here... How am I doing so far?"

"Keep going," Teresa nodded, trying to keep a straight face. She didn't want to give him any more clues in her facial expressions or responses that might help him along, especially since everything he had said so far was, as vague as it was, on the nose.

"You're clearly competent at your job, but it's new to you, completely different from the work you were doing before."

"Careful, Jane. It sounds like you might actually attempt to tell me something _specific_ about my life," she remarked daringly.

"Well, you obviously have a strong moral compass, deeply instilled ideas about fairness and right and wrong, a desire to see justice in the world. And you'd have a job that would give you a sense of purpose, the feeling that you're contributing to the betterment of society.

"You keep referring to me by my last name, which suggests you're accustomed to a face-paced, probably male-dominated work environment where the use of surnames is a more common practice. You almost could be an attorney, a public defender perhaps? Except that you don't have that dead-eyed, beaten-down look you'd no doubt have if you were in _that_ particular line of work. I'm thinking… a journalist, maybe, an investigative reporter?" He continued to keep his eyes trained closely on hers, then shook his head. "No, that isn't quite right either."

He paused once more, tapping his forefinger on his lips a few times, then brought his hands down, folding them in his lap in an almost triumphant manner, a faint smile playing at his lips.

"Law enforcement. You're a police officer." He spoke the words with such certainty it was a little unnerving, but she tried not to let the shock register on her face.

"Whoa! That was _amazing_ ," Grace exclaimed.

"So, I'm right?" Jane asked unnecessarily, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

"You are. I _am_ a cop, a detective in fact, and that _was_ very impressive, Jane." she conceded good-naturedly. "But I'm afraid your little demonstration has only further proven the point I was making earlier."

"How so?"

"Your reading of me was based almost entirely on the information you already had, along with your close observations and some careful guesswork. I told you the first time we met that I didn't grow up here, so you made the reasonable guess that I moved here recently. Then you picked up a quirk in my speech, one of those little details most people wouldn't notice, which informed yet another correct set of assumptions. Add in a couple of leading statements, gauging my reactions as you went, and you were able to figure out a few things. It's an extraordinary talent, I'll give you that. But it doesn't mean you're a psychic. It just means you… pay attention."

The sound of a ringing cell phone interrupted them. Grace reached in her bag to answer it and quietly excused herself from table, almost looking relieved to escape the mounting tension that was now hanging in the air.

Jane waited until she had left before responding. "Well, you certainly seem very confident in your reading of _me_ , Ms. Lisbon." He sipped casually from his drink and his tone was even and controlled, but for the first time Teresa detected just a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

"Well, I know people like you. At the Portland PD we have consultants who help us out with cases- 'mentalists' we call them. They're experts on body language and human behavior. They can read people's tells, help us determine whether or not they're lying or concealing something. But none of these consultants would claim to be psychic, in fact I have a feeling most of them would probably tell me that there's not such thing."

He took another drink from his glass and shifted subtly in his chair. She could tell that he was more than a little bothered by what she was saying.

She leaned forward and spoke in a soft, almost placid tone. "Look, Mr. Jane…"

"Please, call me Patrick," he interjected quietly, a tentative smile on his face.

She grinned back at him in spite of herself then continued. "I'm not trying to attack you here or expose you in any way if that's what you're thinking. You are absolutely free to call yourself whatever you want and conduct your business as you see fit. As long as you're not defrauding people or doing anything illegal, I don't have a problem with it and won't do anything to get it your way."

"So you won't be organizing any late-night mobs to run me out of town with pitchforks and shotguns, then?" he replied, his easy, playful demeanor returning.

"No," she answered with a small smirk of her own, "but I reserve the right to do so in the future, if I see the need."

Grace reappeared at the side of their table, tucking her phone away in her pocket.

"So," she began cautiously, "are you two playing nice here?"

"Yes, we are, Grace," Jane replied quickly, looking over at Teresa. "Very nice indeed."

xxxxxx

A few hours later as she was trekking up the hill towards home, Teresa kept replaying in her head the conversation and encounter she had had with Jane at the pub. She couldn't help but admonish herself a little for how hard she had laid into him. The guy was probably harmless, she figured, so why had she so quickly reverted to cop mode like that? Treating him like he was some suspect in an interrogation, wrangling for control. Had she overreacted? Was it any of her business what he did or how he did it?

On the other hand, she thought to herself, she _was_ cop. It was a deeply ingrained part of who she was, and just because she wasn't currently on the job didn't mean she checked those instincts at the door. Like Jane himself had said, she _did_ have a strong sense of right and wrong and felt compelled to look out for her community and the people around her. Considering the fact that there wasn't an actual police department in town (Cannon River was under the jurisdiction of the county sheriff's office instead) what was wrong with letting this guy know that someone (she) was keeping an eye on him?

Later that night, though, as she lay in bed drifting off to sleep, her last conscious thoughts weren't of Patrick Jane the conman or his trickster ways. Instead the last image lingering in her mind was of those blue-green eyes that had penetrated her own so deeply and of that brief, unexpected moment when she had, just maybe, caught a glimpse of the real man behind them.

 **A/N: More on Teresa's backstory coming soon. Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts in the comments below!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks again for the continued support of this little fic! A special thank you to those guests who have offered comments but whom I can't thank directly.**

 **A couple of people have asked about the setting of the story. My fictional Cannon River is very much based on a real town of similar size located in the middle of the central Oregon coast. (Anyone interested in doing a little detective work online could probably figure out which one!) I'm currently landlocked in the Midwest of the US but am fortunate enough to be able to visit my "Cannon River" a few times a year. :)** **Pretty much my favorite place in the world.**

 **Chapter 5**

 _A cop_ , Jane thought to himself incredulously as he walked along the highway back towards Sam and Pete's place. A passing logging truck rumbled by, kicking up dust and leaves in its wake which swirled at his feet, but he scarcely noticed. The first intelligent, attractive, interesting woman he'd met in god knows how long… and she turns out to be a _cop_.

He really couldn't beat himself up too badly for not picking up on this little fact in any of their earlier encounters. Up until an hour ago, he reasoned to himself, he had no reason to think she was anything other than a woman running a bakery. Perhaps someone running from her past, sure (he still didn't know why she had left her job in Portland or have any insight into her relationship with Minelli). But until he had done his little reading of her and fished out this info, _police detective_ wasn't even on his radar.

Still, he thought, despite the problems this would almost certainly pose for him, he couldn't help but remain drawn to her. A simmering attraction had been buzzing between the two of them since their very first meeting, and even though she might be wary or suspicious of who he was and what he did for a living, she was clearly still feeling it, too. That fleeting moment that had passed between them when they had locked eyes during his reading of her had certainly confirmed that.

And what the hell had happened _there_ exactly? he silently chastised himself. In all his years of playing the part of psychic so rarely did he lose focus and allow himself to be drawn in by someone like that. It was an unprofessional lapse in control on his part as far as he was concerned. And yet, he realized, perhaps by briefly lowering his own guard (albeit it inadvertently) he had gotten her to lower her own a bit as well. Sure, she had continued to challenge and question him afterwards, all but calling him out as a fraud. But by the end of their conversation, her attitude towards him and overall demeanor had noticeably softened. Beneath that hard veneer she presented, he could see the compassionate, vulnerable person underneath. It was a fascinating dichotomy, one that he wanted to explore further, in spite of the potential complications that might arise.

He arrived at the campground at dusk, the liquidy orange sun having just dipped beyond the dusty-colored waves of the ocean. Pete, who was just coming out of the house to take the salmon that was to be their dinner out of the smoker, greeted him jovially.

"Just in time, Paddy!" he called out as he saw Patrick approaching. "Come on over and give me a hand here, will ya?" He passed the giant plate he was holding to Jane who held it steady while Pete began piling the filets onto it.

"So, Sam tells me that place of yours is really shaping up nicely. When's the opening day, again?"

"Day after tomorrow," Jane replied cheerfully. "Word of mouth is starting to spread and should reach fever pitch by then."

"Well, if you need help with anything you let me know," Pete offered with a wink as he closed the hood on the smoker and the two men began making their way into the cottage. Sam was finishing setting the table as they entered the kitchen, and the three sat down to eat their meal around the small oval table. They plated their food and made amiable small talk as they ate, and after a few minutes Jane decided to broach the subject that was still in the forefront of his mind.

"So, what do you two know about Teresa Lisbon?" he asked.

"You mean the state trooper who runs the café?" Sam replied casually.

"Oh, so you knew about that? Well, thanks for giving me the heads up there, Sam!" he answered jokingly. "I've been chatting up this woman all week and didn't have a clue that she was a cop."

"Well, then you must be losing your touch. And I didn't realize you had even met her, Patrick… or that you were sweet on her." Sam raised her eyebrows playfully and exchanged a knowing look with her husband, who cast a curious glance at Jane from across the table.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," he answered somewhat sheepishly before taking another bite of fish, although he knew that neither Sam nor Pete would be convinced by his weak response.

"But getting back to your question, Patrick," Sam began with a grin, "I can't say as I really know her that well. But, I've been in her shop a few times and she's seems like a smart, sassy type- someone who could sure keep _you_ on your toes."

Jane smiled in silent agreement as he finished crewing his latest bite. "Yeah, we've had a few _spirited_ conversations over the last few days. I did a little cold reading on her and her friend just for fun, and she basically called out almost every little play I was making, nailed me to the wall."

"Wait a minute," Pete interjected. "Am I to believe that you, a _Jane_ … are actually interested in a _cop_? A cop who's already called you out and could blow your entire operation at any given moment?"

Jane paused thoughtfully before answering. "Against my better judgment, yes, Pete, I suppose I am."

Pete shook his head apprehensively while chuckling at the same time. "Well, I know you've always enjoyed playing with fire, Patrick, but you better watch yourself with this one. I don't know this woman from Adam, but if what you and Sam are saying about her is right, maybe you oughta set that ego of yours aside, cut your losses, and quit while you're ahead."

Jane considered Pete's cautioning words; it wasn't as if his old friend were saying anything he hadn't already thought about himself. At the very least, he knew Teresa Lisbon would be a distraction. Hell, she already was. But Jane, who had always been one who liked to have his cake and eat it, too, was somehow convinced that it would be worth the risk and that he could handle the delicate balancing act that lay ahead of him.

xxxxx

Late the next morning after spending an hour or so putting the finishing touches on his store, Jane strolled across the street and entered the sunny café, eager to see if the tentative truce he and Teresa had established was still holding. He immediately spotted Grace through the kitchen window, and the friendly redhead smiled warmly and waved at him from a distance. The shop was surprisingly quiet and Teresa was standing at the end of the counter her attention focused on a pile of labels she was attaching to coffee bags that she was stacking on the display shelf. Before she noticed him standing there he quickly took his white handkerchief out of his front pocket and waved it gently in the air in mock surrender, which immediately caught her attention and elicited a small chuckle.

"I think we already agreed to our ceasefire yesterday, Jane," she said evenly.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to check for sure, does it?"

"I suppose not," she replied, setting down the bag she had in her hands. "So, what can I get for you today?"

"A cup of English Breakfast, please," he answered back as he peaked into the glass case. "And I'll try a cheese Danish this time," he continued. As he took out his wallet and handed her the cash, he shook his head somewhat grudgingly at the absence (once again) of his favorite pastry.

"You know, one of these days, Lisbon…" he began teasingly.

"One of these days, what?" she asked as she poured milk, then water into a teal-colored cup as per his exacting instructions, which she remembered from his previous visits.

"One of these days you're going to set aside one of those blueberry muffins for me, and then I'll know that we've truly made peace."

"Or maybe one of these days you'll actually get your ass in here before nine o'clock and get one for yourself." She set his tea and Danish on the counter in front of him and gave him a cheeky grin. Damn, was she adorable when she was being a smartass.

"Touché," he replied with the tilt of his head. "So, are you due for a break soon? I'd love to have your company while I enjoy my breakfast."

"Sure," she replied after a moment's hesitation. "I guess we are kind of slow right now." She grabbed a mug off the rack and filled it, came around the counter and joined him at a nearby table next to the window.

"So, I am curious about something, well a few things actually…" he began as he dipped the tea diffuser into his cup and she took a first sip of her coffee.

"Yes?"

"Why did you leave your job in the city? Achieving the level of detective, that's an impressive career accomplishment for someone your age. I imagine you must have had a good reason to give that up."

"Well, I didn't give it up entirely. I'm just on a leave of absence." She seemed reticent to say much more, but Jane raised his eyebrows curiously, smiled softly and waited. He knew a few moments of uncomfortable silence would be too much for her, and she'd eventually continue with her explanation. Which she did, although not before smirking and shaking her head slightly, as if to let him know that she was fully aware of his little ploy to get her talking.

"I was injured on the job. About ten months ago I was chasing this guy down an alley, a suspect in a B and E. One his tweaker friends jumped me and tackled me to the ground. He had a knife and managed to stab me in the leg about eight times."

"Jesus." Jane was aghast. She spoke of the attack with such an even-keeled voice, it almost gave off the impression she was merely annoyed or inconvenienced by the experience rather than traumatized by it.

"Yeah. There was a lot of ligament and tissue damage, but fortunately the guy missed the artery, otherwise I probably would have bled out right there on the street…Anyway, I was healing up, but my boss wanted to put me on desk duty for six months until I was a hundred percent. I knew _that_ would drive me crazy, and it was right around that time that Virgil called me." She took another long drink from her cup.

"Minelli, the owner of this place. How do you know him?"

"Oh, I've known Virgil forever." An affectionate smile permeated her expression. "He and my dad were in the Air Force together. After my parents were gone, Virgil was like a father to my brothers and me, always looking out for us. He called a few weeks after visiting me in the hospital, all excited about the new boat he had just bought. He talked about the big trip he wanted to take and how he was looking for someone to look after the shop while he was gone. And I just thought here's a chance… to help him after all he's done for me over the years, and give myself the break I needed while I got better."

"Doesn't sound like much of a break to me, running this place," Jane offered, his eyes sweeping the spacious café.

"Well, it's a lot slower here in the winter and I spent a fair amount of time perched up on that stool over there the first month or so," she replied with a self-deprecating laugh. "And of course Grace was a lifesaver, helped me out a lot."

"You'll miss her when you leave," Jane stated plainly, hearing the hint of sadness in her voice as she spoke of her friend.

"Of course," Teresa replied. She looked down pensively at the mug that remained clasped in her hands even after she had set it on the table. She was uncomfortable talking about herself, Jane could clearly see that, and yet she had spoken so openly, probably more than she planned. She quickly shifted her body and sat back in her chair, eager to change the subject and get the focus off of herself. "So, what about you?" she asked briskly.

"What about me?" he replied.

"Well, I know next to nothing about you," she began, "other than the fact that you arrived in town barely a week ago under the guise of this so-called psychic persona."

Jane chuckled lightly before responding. "Well, you are free to ask me anything you like, Teresa. My life is an open book," he responded breezily.

"Oh, I very much doubt that," she answered wryly, and of course they both knew this to be true. She was a cop and he was a conman. Whatever was going on between the two of them, there was no getting around the hard but unspoken truth. He had broken the law (or at least skirted it) more than a few times in his illustrious career, and while she probably suspected this was the case, he was almost certain she wasn't going to ask him about it. He _definitely_ didn't feel the need to go into the particulars of this aspect of his life.

And yet, he thought, he _did_ want to get to know her better, wanted her to like him, and maybe at some point even trust him. To make this happen Jane knew he'd have to be at least a little more upfront about himself than he would be otherwise. And it wasn't as if he had to confess all his past crimes and transgressions; he just needed to share enough of himself to show her that he wasn't a totally amoral scoundrel.

"Go ahead," he replied, looking her square in the eye. "Ask me whatever you'd like to know."

"Alright," she began cautiously. "What were doing before you came here? I mean, are you always on the move doing this 'psychic medium' thing?"

"Most of the time, although for the last few months I've been playing cards, poker mostly, working my way through the casinos and backroom games in Reno, Vegas, Atlantic City…"

"Making all kinds of friends amongst the local gaming officials, I assume," she interjected, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, I never really stay in one place long enough to be a bother to any of those fine people," he answered cheekily.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that last part," she replied in a pseudo-threatening tone, then paused. "But seriously- always on the move, constantly going from place to place? Sounds like a pretty lonely life to me, monotonous even."

"It's the life I'm used to; it's been that way ever since I was a kid."

"Yeah, you mentioned that the other day. What's the story there?"

Jane glanced down for a second, smiling to himself, then looked up to meet her eyes once more. "I grew up on the carnival circuit, actually."

Teresa's eyes were wide with surprise. "You were a carnie?"

Jane nodded. "My father owned and operated various sideshows over the years, his most popular being the 'Psychic Boy Wonder' act." He spoke the last words sharply, making no attempt to hide his feelings regarding his long-estranged father.

"And that was you," she replied with dawning understanding. "How old were you?"

"I've been reading people for a living since I was about nine years old."

"Nine years old?" Teresa was astonished. "You were just a kid. What about school? Friends?...Little League?"

Jane snorted a laugh. "My father didn't see much need for any of that. I went to school for short spurts here and there when I was younger, when the fair would shut down for the winters. But mostly I just learned what I needed to know from the people around me. That is _one_ thing I miss about the carnie life; the camaraderie of it, having people who are always there, who'll look out for you and have your back when you need it."

"Hmm" Teresa smiled, shaking her head a little, and he looked at her quizzically.

"Well, what you were just saying there, the way you were describing it," she began, "it sounds kind of like being a cop."

The two of them laughed lightly at the irony of it, and held each other's gaze for a moment. She was the first look away, then she held up her now empty coffee cup.

"Well, I better get back to work," she said softly then quickly added. "But, I'm glad you stopped by, Jane."

"Me, too," he replied back, a tender smile spreading across his face.

As he watched her walk away he felt a twinge of uneasiness rise within his chest.

This, he thought to himself, was going to be much more complicated than he imagined.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks again to those of you who continue to read this story and provide feedback so faithfully! I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I haven't had much time for writing this week and I found that this latest installment, trying to convey Teresa's POV and introspection, was difficult for me. More action (and more Jane) in the next chapter, I promise!**

 **Chapter 6**

From the looks of it, she wasn't the only one to be taken in by Patrick Jane's charms.

Teresa looked out the front window of the café and watched as yet another small group of customers made their way into his shop across the street. It was his opening day and she had noticed numerous people coming and going throughout the morning and early afternoon. This time it was three nervous-looking, giggling teenage girls no doubt daring one another to get their palms read or fortunes told or some other such nonsense, she thought to herself with the roll of her eyes. She watched as he ushered them in with the dramatic sweep of his arm, his dazzling smile on full display just as she'd expect it to be. Before following them inside, he glanced out into the busy street, and Teresa instinctively stepped (or rather, jumped) backwards so he wouldn't see her through the window. She cringed and rolled her eyes again, this time at herself and her ridiculous behavior. What the hell was she doing, spying on him like some moony-eyed schoolgirl? she silently chastised herself. She quickly grabbed the plates off the table she was bussing, stacked them in her bin, and hurried back to the counter.

Okay, so she wasn't exactly _spying_ on him she reassured herself. They worked across the street from one another and it was a big window. She couldn't help but notice the comings and goings of her neighbors from her vantage point. Just like she could see Cho's almost daily trips down to the market to grab a fresh piece of fruit to eat with his lunch or Rigsby's frequent visits to the ice cream shop down the road on particularly hot days. Wow, she realized: she was becoming a regular Gladys Kravitz, remembering the nosy neighbor character from those old "Bewitched" reruns she used to watch as a kid. She must really miss police stakeouts.

Still, what on earth was she thinking? she questioned herself impatiently as she began wiping down the counter and straightening up her work area that had been left in complete disarray after the lunch rush. Wasn't she at least a little bit smarter, a little bit wiser and more discerning than this? Or was she just like those naïve girls across the street, reduced to a bundle of confusion and ambivalence after a few sweet smiles and chummy conversations with this guy?

Patrick Jane was basically a hustler. He swindled people for a living, playing on their insecurities and vulnerabilities all the while coasting on his intelligence and charm to get by in the world. Everything about him and the way he made his living flew directly in the face of all that she believed morally and ethically. Not to mention the fact that he undoubtedly made a habit of sidestepping, if not outright breaking the law as a matter of course. She had collared dozens of guys just like him as cop- people who lived their lives according to their own set of rules and skewed moral codes with no concern for the consequences. If she were on the job right now, it's more likely she'd be putting cuffs on the man rather than having a friendly chat with him over coffee and Danish.

So was he just playing her? she wondered. Trying to get on her good graces so she would turn a blind eye to whatever possible schemes he may be cooking up? She wasn't so _completely_ taken in by his fiendish good looks and charm to overlook this possibility, and the cynical side of her knew that this might be at least partly the case. Although if she were honest with herself, she would admit that both of these forces- his devastatingly handsome face and endless charisma- were beginning to chip away and wear down her heavily guarded defenses. The way he looked at her when they spoke, his attentive gaze and natural ease lulling her into conversation, was completely disarming and a little unsettling to her.

However, despite the wariness that lingered, she knew in her gut that not everything that had transpired between them up to this point had been a ruse or part of some grand scheme he might have to win her over and somehow manipulate her. She had seen his showman persona slip several times and his carefully constructed affectations fall away more than once. It had happened first during his reading of her over at the pub, then again during their conversation just the day before. He seemed genuine in his openness when he spoke about his life and childhood, almost eager to show this other side of himself to her and she couldn't help but respond in kind.

And even if this guy _was_ bad news and was somehow trying to hoodwink her, she thought to herself, what was the harm in engaging in a little harmless flirtation? She could still keep her radar up around him (as she usually did with men) and regardless of whatever happened, in a few months it would be over. She'd be heading back to the city to resume her regular life, and he'd be long gone, too. No matter how ill advised it might be from a logical standpoint, maybe a little summer fling was just what she needed. No fuss, no muss.

The ringing of the bell attached to the front door interrupted her vacillating thoughts. She looked up to see a blonde teenage boy standing about ten feet away from her wearing a messenger bag slung over his shoulder and an awkward, cautious look on his face. By his height she figured him to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, but his baby-faced expression and facial features gave him the appearance of someone much younger.

"Hi," she welcomed him cheerfully, although not _too_ enthusiastically; she didn't want to scare the poor kid off. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, hi. My name is Jason. Wylie. Grace told me to stop by here after school let out. She mentioned you were looking to hire a busboy for the summer?"

"Yeah, we are. I'm Teresa Lisbon, the manager here. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand, which he shook swiftly before returning his own to the strap of his bag, which he clasped onto as if it were some kind of security blanket. God, he looked so nervous.

"So, Wylie, have you ever had a job before?"

"Uh, no, not really. Although I do make some money here and there, doing IT-type stuff for people around town. You know, helping them set up their wi-fi or teaching people how to program their DVRs, simple stuff like that. I can get some references for you if you need them."

Teresa smiled gently at his obvious enthusiasm then replied, shaking her head, "No, that won't be necessary. With Grace vouching for you that's more than enough for me. She said you're the brightest kid in her class."

Wylie beamed then averted his eyes shyly. Despite his apparent embarrassment at her compliment, he noticeably relaxed at her praising words.

"Well," Teresa continued, "I can't promise you this job will be all that exciting or intellectually stimulating, but I can give you about thirty hours of work a week if you're up for it. Minimum wage to start, with a raise after four weeks, plus your share of tips… How does that sound?"

"That sounds great, Ms. Lisbon. Thank you!"

"Call me Teresa, please. And school's out for the summer I take it? So you're all ready to start?"

"Yep, I'm free as a bird," the young man replied in a chipper voice.

"Good. Then we'll start you out on Monday." She paused. He seemed so eager get to work right away he was almost jumping out of his skin.

"You want to come back here right now, and we can show you around a bit?" she asked.

The young man practically hopped over the counter in his excitement.

xxxxx

Later after she had closed up, Teresa walked across the road before heading home. She needed to go to the market to buy a few groceries for dinner, plus she wanted to stop by the bookshop and see if the latest release from her favorite true crime author had come in yet. (Cho had promised to set aside a copy for her when it did.)

As she approached the building she cast a quick glance over at Jane's shop next door and was a little disappointed to see its shades drawn and curtains closed. It was dark on the inside and a small _Closed_ sign hung in the window by the doorway. She shrugged it off and was about to continue on her way when her curiosity got the better of her. She impulsively decided to move in closer to see if she could get a better look at the inside of his place. She leaned into the window, shielding her eyes from the sunlight with her hands and peered through a crack in the blinds. She was just starting to make out the shadowy shapes of the inside of the store when the door, just a few inches away from her, opened abruptly. Teresa jumped back and looked up, a mixture of shock and embarrassment washing over her like a wave.

Standing there, with an amused, puckish grin spreading across his face, was Jane. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned into the doorway casually, his eyes dancing wickedly.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Lisbon. See anything you like?"

 **Thanks again for reading! Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7

**As promised this chapter is a little longer to make up for the shortness of the last one. I hope you all enjoy it!**

 **Thanks again for all the lovely reviews and follows, especially from those of you who are just finding this story! The feedback is incredibly helpful and encouraging.**

 **So, here we are on Chapter 7 already, and even though this AU's Lisbon and Jane are inching towards one another at a pace that I think is believable and in character, things haven't progressed nearly as far as I thought they would by this point in the story. So, let's kick things up a notch, shall we?**

 **Chapter 7**

Patrick Jane had had a good day.

As he anticipated, business had been brisk on his first day open. News of his arrival in town had spread amongst the locals and brought a steady stream of clients knocking at his door. It was the predicable mix of curious tourists looking for a cheap novelty experience, one they could tell all their friends about when they got home from their summer vacations, as well as people from town, several of whom were former clients of Kristina Frye interested to see if Jane's clairvoyant abilities was on par with hers. (Based on the number of people who booked return visits for the following week, he'd say he had passed muster with most of them.)

By the end of the day, he had over three hundred dollars in his pocket and a half a dozen appointments penciled into his day planner. Not bad considering the small-time nature of his little operation here. True, it was nothing like the cash he used to rake in during his carnie days, when he'd hold court and entertain a teeming throng of fairgoers packed into a giant tent for twenty bucks a pop. But like he had told Pete when he first arrived in- it wasn't about the money. It was the excitement of holding people in the palm of his hand, having them hanging on his every word, and dazzling them with his apparent insight into their innermost thoughts.

Although if he were being honest with himself, he would have to admit that the enjoyment of what he was doing was starting to wane a bit. Reading people was like second nature to him, far too easy to be truly interesting or challenging anymore. He could meet with a hundred people in a week, but almost every time, after he had read their tells and brought to light whatever information their body language and facial expressions were giving off, he always ended up spinning the same old scenarios, making the same tired predictions. He was giving his customers what they wanted to hear, but boring himself to tears in the process. Like Lisbon had so astutely pointed out the other day, his work _was_ monotonous.

Perhaps his favorite part of the day had been the downtime between visitors which he spent sitting on the worn wooden bench outside his front window, making friendly small talk with the people coming out of the bookshop next door or the market two doors down. He especially loved his interactions with the children he met walking past- entertaining kids on bicycles with card tricks and other slight-of-hand illusions, conjuring coins from behind the ears of toddlers to the amazement of them and their parents. He was always his most natural and at ease around children; he could perform and entertain, but there was no hustle behind it. Just pure fun.

At one point during the afternoon he had poked his head into the bookstore and tried to initiate conversation with his neighbor, Cho, in what was beginning to feel like a futile attempt to get the stoic man to crack a smile or utter more than a few words at a time. But just as he had been during their first meeting, the bookseller was curt and dismissive, immune to Jane's attempts at charming him and too busy with customers of his own to pay him much attention.

But now, just as he was closing up shop and getting ready to leave for the day, he noticed someone lurking around the front of the building and peeking into his front window. He inched forward towards the front of the store and immediately recognized the petite silhouette of his favorite cop turned barista/baker- Teresa Lisbon. Maybe this day was starting to get interesting after all.

He had caught a few glimpses of her here and there throughout the day thanks the café's giant picture windows that overlooked the street they shared. At one point he was pretty sure he had seen her standing and watching him, a discovery that, of course, thrilled him to no end. This little dance they were doing around one another seemed to be picking up tempo a bit, further evidenced by her present skulking around his front window.

He swung the door open and greeted her with his usual mischievous expression. Her mortification at being caught read all over her face; she looked distinctly like someone who wanted to crawl into a hole and die, he noted with great amusement. Maybe he should give her a break, he thought, be gracious and not give her a hard time. However he simply couldn't resist the opportunity to tease her a little and watch the pink rise over her pale freckled cheeks, as he was almost certain it would.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Lisbon. See anything you like?"

"Nope, nothing at all," she replied a little too quickly, straightening herself up and eyeing him confidently.

He leaned against the doorframe and shook his head in mock reproach. "You know, I'm pretty sure there are Peeping Tom laws in place that should protect me from such grievous invasions as this."

"Actually," she began earnestly after a moment's pause, "you're a business owner with a shop adjacent to a public sidewalk. One _could_ argue that you don't really have a reasonable expectation to privacy under the circumstances." She spoke in a serious tone, but the light behind her eyes told a different story altogether. She couldn't keep a straight face for more than a second or two, when she finally broke out into a dimpled smirk.

"Would you like to come in and see the place properly?" he took a step back to make room for her in the doorway.

"Oh no, that's alright. I've got a few stops to make before I head home."

"Ah, well in the that case, mind if I tag along with you for a bit? I'm assuming you're going down to the market, and I have a few things I need to get myself."

"Sure," she smiled back awkwardly. He turned and swiftly locked his door then faced her again as the two of them started walking down the sidewalk together.

"So, you live up on that hill over there?" he asked, nodding towards the steep pine-covered slope behind them.

"Yeah.." she answered warily. "How did you know that?"

"Well, when you said _home_ just now, you tilted your head back and to the right side a bit. It was a very subtle movement, but…"

"…you picked up on it," she nodded as she finished his sentence for him, then paused. "God, you really are good at that."

He shrugged slightly, doing his best to appear modest. At the same time he also didn't want her thinking he was constantly trying to get a fix on her, which he knew she would find more than a little unnerving. So as they entered the market and each grabbed a shopping basket, he decided it was an opportune time to change the subject.

"Well, I suppose with that trek home you have every day, you probably haven't taken the opportunity to explore many of the hiking trails around town."

Teresa eyed him inquisitively. "Um, no, not really," she replied as they headed down the produce aisle and she began inspecting a pile of Bartlett pears.

Not surprising, Jane thought to himself dryly; nothing about Lisbon screamed _nature girl_. Nonetheless, he pressed on.

"It's just that one of my customers today mentioned some great trails for walking, just south of town up along the cape. Do you know that area at all?"

"No," she answered back, curious but still clueless as to where he was going with this particular line of questioning. She held a piece of fruit in her hand and began to place it in her basket when Jane stopped her, touching her forearm gently. He noted the jolt of awareness that coursed through his fingertips at this first physical contact with her.

"You don't want to buy that one," he interjected. "It's starting to go bad."

"Oh, you're psychic when it comes to fruit, too?" she asked sarcastically.

"No," he chuckled, amused by her defensiveness. "It's starting to go bad," he repeated. "Look, there's a bruise on the side and that little crack there near the stem is starting to turn brown."

"Oh," she responded sheepishly, holding the fruit closer until she noticed the miniscule markings on its surface, then promptly returned the pear to the pile. She grabbed a small bunch of green bananas and held them up as if silently, jokingly seeking his seal of approval. She placed them in her basket, and the two of them rounded the corner and began strolling down the next aisle of the store.

"Anyway, I was wondering… if you'd like to come along with me sometime, on a walk," Jane proposed. "Say, the day after tomorrow, after you're done with work?"

He watched her expectantly. She was now scanning a shelf of marinara sauces, and he got the feeling she was using the task as an excuse to avoid eye contact with him for an extra moment or two before answering, perhaps making him sweat it out a bit? She took a jar off the shelf, put it in her basket and looked up at him, her gaze clear and certain.

"Sure," she replied, with a smile and a nod. "Sounds like fun. Although…" she looked down, regarding the worn, dusty-looking leather oxfords on his feet, "it looks like you might need to find some other shoes to wear before then. _Those_ have certainly seen better days. Do you even own another pair?"

"Meh, these old things have been everywhere, they'll do just fine." Jane answered then raised his eyebrows at her and tilted his head a bit. "Hmm…"

"What?" she asked.

"Well, it seems that somebody's been paying awfully close attention to the way I look and what I'm wearing," he responded with smirk and raised eyebrows.

She answered him with an exaggerated roll of her eyes and resumed walking. He grinned to himself and turned on his heel, then skipped a few steps to catch up with her again.

xxxxx

The rain came down in thick sheets, pounding the glass of his front window and bouncing off the pavement of the sidewalk. It was two days later, the afternoon that he and Lisbon had fixed to go on their outing together and the disappointment Jane felt was palpable. Even if the rain eased up soon, there was no way they'd be walking a trail today.

Adding insult to injury the bad weather, which had begun almost as soon as he had arrived that morning, meant that the downtown was practically deserted. No business had made the day drag on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Even Cho had gone home early, which meant Jane didn't even have the option of going over and browsing for a new book (or aggravating his stone-faced neighbor while he was at it just for the hell of it). By three thirty he had had enough. He put the _Closed_ sign in the window, locked the front door, and sprinted across the street to Minelli's.

The café appeared empty, except for a blonde teenaged boy who was hard at work, placing upturned chairs on the tops of tables as he wiped them down carefully.

"Can I help you?" he asked tentatively as he stopped what he was doing and approached Jane who stood sopping wet near the doorway, drops of water cascading down from his clothes and hair onto the large industrial mat on the floor.

"Yeah, you don't happen to have an extra towel handy, do you?"

"Um, yeah, let me go get one for ya…" the boy began, laughing a bit as he went.

"I got it, Wylie," Teresa appearing suddenly from the door that led to the kitchen. She tossed the checkered dishtowel that was in her hands to Jane, who smiled his thanks and began furiously rubbing his wet curly mop. She laughed lightly at his disheveled appearance then turned to the busboy.

"Why don't you go ahead and take off for the day, Jason. Grace and I are going to close up a little early and it looks like you've pretty much finished up out here."

"Oh, yeah, thanks, Teresa. I actually have to get over to my neighbor's house this afternoon, show him how to set up his Neflix queue," he said with a quirky smile and little shrug, placing the rag he was holding onto the counter. He reached below the register and grabbed his umbrella and messenger bag and headed toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, then!" He gave a quick wave goodbye before opening his umbrella, preparing to charge out into the unrelenting downpour.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Wylie."

"Seems like a sweet kid," Jane remarked after the boy had left.

Teresa nodded. "Yeah, he is. He just started yesterday, actually… You all dry?" she asked with the arch of her brow.

"Yes, I am. Thank you." He handed the towel back to her. "Well…so much for our walk in the woods, huh?"

"Yeah. But I suppose that's why they're called _rain checks_ , right?"

"Definitely," he replied, holding her gaze intently for a beat. She smiled softly, then grabbed the towels off the counter and began straightening up.

"I certainly picked the wrong day to walk to work, that's for sure," he said as he walked towards the windows to look out at the street that was practically awash with water.

"How far away do you live?"

"I'm staying with my friends, Sam and Pete. They live in the cottage up at the campground, about two miles north of town."

"Two miles?" she asked. "You'll catch pneumonia if you walk back in this cold. Wait around a few minutes; I'll give you lift home." Her voice was full of genuine, almost motherly concern.

"You drove to work today?"

"Yep. Unlike some people, apparently, I checked the weather report this morning." Her words were teasing, but her voice remained kind.

Jane smiled sweetly. While he hadn't exactly been angling for the offer of a ride, he was very grateful for it just the same. "Well, I'd very much appreciate a ride, Teresa. Thank you."

At that moment Grace emerged from the kitchen, removing the apron she was wearing and hanging it on the wall peg nearby.

"All done back there. Oh, hi Jane! I didn't realize you were here," she greeted him in her usual sunny manner. "Sorry your date got canceled," she added in a low voice with a sly wink, resulting in a withering stare from her friend. Grace stifled a giggle and gathered her things, preparing to leave for the day.

"Is it alright that I'm taking off now? I want to go over to May's place, check and make sure everything's okay there before I head home." She turned to Jane and added by way of explanation, "I'm house-sitting for a friend who's been out town the past few weeks."

"Sure, get out of here. I'm almost done anyway," Teresa replied.

"Alright, then. Good night!" she bid them both farewell and as she reached the door, she turned to Teresa and mouthed the words _have fun_ , which Jane pretended not to notice.

The next few minutes were spent in comfortable silence as Teresa finished her work and Jane sat by the window, gazing out at the torrential rain outside. Having spent the last few months in the scorching heat of the desert, he savored the sound of the water as it splattered on the windowpanes and splashed up against the curb with each passing car.

Suddenly he heard the light switch being turned off and the room darkened. It was only late afternoon, but the gray mass of clouds that had descended over the town made it appear much later. Teresa joined him by the window, climbing up on the stool next to his and looked out at the street. "Unreal isn't it?" she said softly. "I mean, growing up in the valley we got our share of rain... but it was nothing like this."

Jane looked over at her to see that her face was now suddenly cast in a pensive, almost melancholy expression, like she was a million miles away in a different time and place.

"You're remembering something," he said simply and quietly. "A happy memory, I hope."

"Yeah," she nodded, breathing slightly. She hesitated for a moment, clearing weighing in her mind whether or not she wanted to share what she was thinking with him. After a second or two more, she spoke.

"When I was about nine or ten years old my mom left on a trip for a few days- went back to Chicago to visit family- and my dad was taking care of us kids. He wasn't _totally_ helpless, although I do remember us eating a lot of mac and cheese that week." The two of them chuckled softly at the recollection.

"Anyway, he heard on the weather that there was this huge front coming in, a storm that would last for days- wind, sleet, rain, a huge mess. And he got _so_ excited…he just loved these storms. Whenever he got the chance, he'd drive out here to the coast just to watch them come through… Everyone thought he was a little crazy, which maybe he was."

Teresa smiled faintly before continuing. "So, when he heard about this storm, he just had to come and see it…. We packed a cooler full of peanut butter sandwiches and juice boxes, and he piled me and my brothers into the station wagon, threw our blankets and sleeping bags into the back and he brought us out here to the ocean.

"I remember we were parked on a little bluff overlooking the water. It was so dark it felt like the clouds were about to swallow us. And the rain was beating down on the roof and the wind- it was blowing so hard it shook the car."

"That must have been frightening," Jane offered sympathetically.

"Oh, I wasn't really scared. I mean, my dad may have been a little reckless, but I knew he'd keep us safe." Teresa's face froze briefly at those last words then she continued on gamely. "Anyway, my brothers were terrified. Stan, he was trying to act tough, but I could see he was nervous. And Jimmy and Tommy probably didn't see a thing; they were huddled next to me, cowering under the blanket the entire time."

"What about your dad?" Jane asked tentatively.

She smiled widely, a smile that betrayed feelings of nostalgia, joy and heartbreak all at once. "I remember looking over at him, and he had this huge grin on his face the whole time. Like he was in complete awe of what he was seeing and he was so excited to share it with us…It was the happiest I ever saw him." She paused again, and the edges of her mouth twitched up slightly. She looked down abruptly and reset the look on her face to her usual droll expression.

"My mom was furious when she got home and heard about our little adventure," she added brightly.

"I'll bet," Jane nodded in agreement, trying to keep the tone light for her sake. He could see she was suddenly uncomfortable with the unexpected turn their conversation had taken. Clearly deep wounds from her childhood left her guarded and unaccustomed to sharing this much of herself, and yet she had, probably to her own surprise as much as his. Everyone's walls come down at some point, he thought wryly to himself; he knew that better than anyone.

"So," she began, her voice upbeat as she hopped down from her stool, "are you ready to go?"

"Indeed I am."

She grabbed her bag off the counter and the two of them made their way through the kitchen to the backdoor that led to the parking lot. They stood under the shelter of the small awning over the doorway, which provided them some measure of protection from the pelting rain as she locked up. When she was finished, she glanced up at him, her eyes now wide with child-like excitement at the prospect of what they were about to do.

"Ready to make a break for it?" she asked, practically shouting over the roar of the pounding rain. "Mine's the one over there," she added, pointing to the midnight blue mini SUV parked at the far edge of the lot.

"Ready when you are," he replied excitedly, returning her silly grin as the two of them took their first steps off the stoop in tandem.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he impulsively reached out and clasped her hand in his as they sprinted together across the parking lot. It was only for a few moments, but he marveled at the feel of her slippery fingers holding onto his as they ran across the pavement, not even bothering to dodge the gigantic puddles that lay in their path. He released her hand only at the very moment he had to, when they reached her car and she ran around to the driver's side to unlock the doors for them. It took her a few seconds to do this, and he leaned his head back giddily, enjoying the sensation of the cold water hitting his face and catching a few drops on his tongue. Feeling the click of the mechanism unlocking, he opened the door and leapt into the passenger's seat, quickly closing the door behind him.

He paused to catch his breath, then looked over at her, her face shiny and hair matted against her head, tiny droplets of water trailing down the side of her neck. They laughed together, their breathing still hitched from their brief exertion. Then, their eyes locked suddenly, heatedly, and without giving it a moment's thought, he leaned across the console between them and found her cool wet lips with his own.

She met him halfway.

 **I know, I know. A kiss in the rain, super cliché. (And, yes, I know that admitting to** ** _using_** **a cliché is a cliché, too.) Please forgive me, though. I was re-watching a certain Season 1 episode recently and was inspired to tweak/rewrite its ending scene and use it here. You all know the episode I'm referring to, right?**

 **Thanks again for reading! Let me know your thoughts!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi everyone! Based on the feedback I received it sounds like my little homage to that final scene in "Flame Red" was appreciated. I'm so glad! This chapter picks up right where the last one left off, then continues with a step towards an actual (gasp) plot! Shocking development, I know.**

 **Chapter 8**

She closed her eyes lazily, conscious only of the feeling of his cool mouth on hers and the sound of the rain pounding on the roof of the car. It was a gentle kiss at first, seeking yet reverent, confident but cautious at the same time. After a few moments she felt his body weight shift slightly as he reached his hand up to stroke her cheek with the tips of his fingers before they found their way along the edge of her jaw line, cradling the side of her face with his wet hand. Soon she was vaguely aware of his fingers threading into the soaked strands of her hair at the back of her neck as he deepened their kiss, his tongue gently coaxing her lips open, a sudden warmth suffusing her entire body.

They broke apart a few seconds later, her lungs screaming for air, probably the result of their recent sprint through the rain, not to mention the minute or so they had just spent depriving themselves of much needed oxygen. Their eyes remained locked as they gasped lightly for breath, their faces mere inches apart. In the relative darkness of car the she had a hard time reading the expression on his face and she moved back just enough to see his darkened eyes, the sea green irises all but vanished and the faint, gentle smile that played at his lips. His hand was still stroking the crook of her neck softy and his feather-light touch sent shivers tingling down her spine.

"I've imagined kissing you ever since I first saw you," he spoke first, his voice surprisingly tender.

"Oh, yeah?" she replied, grinning. "Why didn't you?" she asked, her voice soft but her usual droll manner rising to the surface, still very much intact despite what they had just done.

"Well, if I recall our first meeting correctly, you were giving me a hard time about sleeping in late and not getting to your café in time to claim a blueberry muffin."

She began to roll her eyes, but he didn't let up. "Then the _next_ time we talked you were too busy calling me out as a fraud and a crook in front of your friend; _that_ didn't really seem like the opportune time then, either," he smirked.

"Hush!" She smacked him lightly on the arm, and he quickly reached up and grasped her hand, holding it in his own then placing it between his two palms. She shivered suddenly, the coldness of her soaked clothing finally registering with her over-sensitized skin.

"You're freezing," he observed with a sympathetic smile, rubbing her hand between his two.

"Aren't you?" she asked.

"Meh, a little," he conceded, then added reluctantly, "We should probably get going."

She nodded simply as he released her hand, and with clumsy fingers she found and placed her key into the ignition.

The drive to the campground passed without much talking, the deafening rain making any kind of intimate conversation next to impossible. She noticed him glancing over at her from time to time during the brief ride, and had it not been for the torrential downpour she was navigating, she would've attempted to meet his eyes more frequently. Or perhaps not- behind the wheel of a moving car she wasn't so sure she'd be able to keep them on the road safely under the intensity of his gaze.

She turned down the long gravel driveway, following his directions until they reached the small dove gray cottage near the water's edge.

"This is where you live?" she asked, admiring the small building with shake siding and a lit porch light that cast a warm, welcoming glow onto the front of the house.

"Ah, no, that's Sam and Pete's place. I bunk out here," he answered, pointing towards the large vehicle parked a few yards away from the building. Teresa looked over and eyed what to her resembled an oversized silver bucket on wheels.

"An RV?" she questioned dumbly, then suddenly chiding herself silently, realizing how rude she probably sounded.

"It's an Airstream, actually," he replied with a hint of pride in his voice, undeterred by her less than enthusiastic response to it.

He breathed in deeply and paused, "Well, I suppose this is goodnight, then… I'll see you tomorrow, I hope?"

"Yeah," she nodded and smiled back.

He reached over and gave her a slow but chaste kiss, which just like the ones earlier she felt all the way down to her toes.

"Goodnight," he said quietly after they broke apart and he placed his hand on the door preparing to leave.

"Oh, and don't forget to set aside that muffin for me in the morning," he added cheekily before exiting the car and sprinting back out into the storm.

xxxxxx

The next morning Teresa arrived at the café just after five, grateful to have the first few hours alone as she began prepping for the day. She went through the usual series of rote tasks she did every morning: finishing mixing and placing the first batches of pastries into the ovens; brewing vats of coffee; and setting up the bussing stations and dining area. But inevitably her mind kept returning to those heady, intense moments she and Jane had spent together just twelve hours earlier and the quiet, sweet ones that had followed. She felt decidedly thrown off-balance by what had happened (the intoxicating thrill of mind-blowing first kisses tend to do that, she thought to herself), but she was still determined to remain clear-minded and levelheaded.

Grace arrived right before their seven o'clock opening time and just as Teresa had expected, she immediately began bombarding her with questions, eager to find out exactly what had taken place between her friend and the handsome blonde after she had left. Of course Teresa was reluctant to go into too much detail; despite how close she and Grace were, it simply wasn't in her reserved nature to do so. But she knew that denials or remaining tight-lipped would not pacify Grace's over-the-top exuberance. So she gave her the Cliffs notes version of events- how she had offered him a ride home, they shared a kiss and a few heated moments in her car, and that was it- no big deal.

Grace was positively giddy at the news. "I knew it!" she practically squealed. "I knew from the first day he came in here this would happen."

"Stop," Teresa shook her head in an exasperated manner, picking up a pair of tongs from the counter and beginning to place items into the empty glass display case.

"No, I mean it… And I'm happy for you. You deserve to have a little romance in your life."

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Grace, but I wouldn't go out shopping for some hideous pink bridesmaid dress _quite_ yet, alright?" Teresa began sarcastically. "Whatever _this_ is that's going on between Jane and me, it isn't going anywhere. It _can't_ go anywhere."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because," she replied with absolute finality and certainty in her voice. "In a few months I'll be going back to Portland, and he'll be… god knows where. It's just like summer camp."

"Summer camp?" Grace asked dubiously, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah," Teresa began, leaning up against the counter. "You know, when you're a kid and you go away to camp, and you become best friends with your bunkmate on the very first day and spend all your time together. Then at the end of summer you promise you're going to stay in touch and write each other every week… but then what happens? You go back to school, back to your regular life, your regular friends, and you _never_ hear from that person again."

Grace frowned, furrowing her brow. "So, you're saying that Jane is the romantic equivalent of a doomed summer camp friendship?"

Teresa nodded firmly. "Yes."

"Nope. Not buying it," Grace countered swiftly. "You can downplay this as much as you want, Teresa, but you never know what could happen. I think you should keep an open mind about him."

Lisbon knew there was no dissuading her friend of her romantic sensibilities; all she could do was shake her head and resume the work in front of her.

A few minutes later after they had unlocked the door to open for business, Rigsby entered the shop. The tall firefighter greeted them both with a friendly hello and smiled sweetly at Grace, handing her his travel mug which she began filling with his favorite dark roast. Teresa grinned at the sight of the two of them gazing at one another from either side of the counter. Despite her pragmatic attitude when it came to her own love life, these two, who had only been dating for a few months now, were pretty adorable to watch. Sweet, but not sickeningly so.

A playful smirk spread across Rigsby's face as he leaned over the counter to address Teresa. "So… Lisbon, I hear your hot date with the psychic got rained out last night. Sorry to hear that."

Lisbon cast a withering look over at Grace, who shrugged apologetically before a snort of laughter escaped her lips.

"Oh, you're funny. Double act, huh?" she shot back at both of them. Grace and Rigsby exchanged a glance, trying their best to quell their amused giggles. They could both see that Teresa was starting to get a little annoyed.

"See this is what I miss about dating in the city," Lisbon began petulantly. "There, if I wanted to go out with some wildly inappropriate guy, I could, and no one would have to know about it. Here, I give someone a ride home and all of a sudden I'm having a torrid affair."

"I didn't say it was torrid," Rigsby replied defensively, backing away from her slightly. He then looked sideways over at Grace and asked in a low, conspiring tone, "Is it torrid?"

"Stop it, both of you!" Teresa ordered, through an irritated laugh of her own. She heard the bell on the front door ring and looked up to see young Wylie strolling in. Thank god, she thought sardonically, now maybe these two goofballs will give it a rest already.

"Well, I gotta take off, babe. I'll see you later," Rigbsy said to Grace, grabbing his coffee and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. He then turned to Teresa and offered her a sheepish smile and waved goodbye before departing. "Bye, Lisbon."

"Bye, Wayne," she responded dryly.

Wylie came around the corner and tucked his bag onto the shelf under the register. He leaned up against the counter near the two women and looked back and forth between them awkwardly several times with wide, curious eyes. "So…" he began in a chipper, yet cautious voice, "what are you all talking about?"

xxxxxxx

What a difference a day makes, Jane thought to himself as he walked along the highway heading into Cannon River later that morning. Just a few hours earlier everything around him had been enveloped in torrential rain and wind, nearly beaten down and destroyed by the ferocity of the storm, the likes of which he had never seen. And now? Everything was fragrant and renewed, seemingly unscathed by the events of the night before, save for a few stray tree branches and leaves strewn on the side of the road. The sun was certainly shining down on him now, he thought with a satisfied smile, both literally _and_ figuratively. He picked up the pace of his walking, eager to reach town and see the woman who had been occupying his thoughts most intensely since the moment he had woken up this morning.

He had meant what he told her the evening before; as corny as it might have sounded, the kiss they had finally shared had been hanging between the two of them since the day he walked into her café two weeks ago. Now that they had crossed this threshold of sorts, he could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of what might come next. For the guy who always had a plan in the works, he didn't really have one here. This wasn't some carefully orchestrated seduction he was carrying out (although he had certainly had more than his fair share of _those_ over the years). This felt vastly different, for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He entered the café, but was immediately deflated at what he saw, or rather, didn't see. Grace and the young man he had met yesterday were working behind the counter, but Lisbon was nowhere in sight.

"'Morning, Jane!" Grace greeted him cheerfully then frowned slightly, reading the look of thinly veiled disappointment on his face. "She's not here right now. She had to make a quick run up to Freeport this morning to pick up some things, but she'll be back in a hour or so."

"Thank you, Grace," he replied kindly, erasing the unhappy expression from his face. He approached the counter and took out his wallet. "I'll have a cup of your chai tea, please." He peered into the bakery case, expecting yet another disappointment, but was pleasantly surprised to see that his long-coveted blueberry muffin was actually there. "And I'll take one of the blueberry muffins as well," he added brightly. "I'm amazed you actually have them."

"Yeah, she made a bunch more than usual this morning," Grace responded with a shrug, clearly oblivious to what Jane saw as a significant and sweet gesture on Lisbon's part.

After he had paid her, he collected his tea and muffin and made a beeline for the comfy leather sofa in the corner. His first appointment of the day wasn't due for another half hour, so he settled in to enjoy his breakfast in the quiet of the nearly deserted café, which seemed to be experiencing a brief lull between its breakfast and lunchtime crowds.

A few minutes later, though, he saw a smartly dressed, middle-aged woman enter the shop. She had shoulder length reddish-brown hair and a weary, almost melancholy look about her, which he noticed her immediately mask with a cheerful-looking smile as soon as she caught sight of Grace behind the counter. His curiosity piqued, Jane subtly began watching and eavesdropping on the two women's conversation as he sipped his tea and ate his breakfast

"May! Oh, when did you get back?" Grace smiled affectionately at the woman and quickly made her way around the counter. The two embraced warmly.

"Just now, actually," the woman answered back as the two of them broke apart. "Thank you for looking after the house for me. Everything looks great."

"Oh, no problem; it was my pleasure. How was Seattle?" Grace asked as they seated themselves at a nearby table.

"Well, it's always wonderful to see my sister and spend time with her family, but… I couldn't avoid things here forever, you know? I woke up early this morning and just knew it was time to come home," she replied, her voice sounding tired and anxious.

Grace nodded in apparent understanding and reached out to touch May's hand.

"Can I get you some coffee or something to eat?" Grace offered.

"No, sweety, I'm fine," May answered as she stood up to leave. "I actually have to get going- I need to go to the market and restock the fridge, run a few errands around town. But I'll be in here Friday morning for my usual 'coffee club' with the girls from the neighborhood."

"Alright. I'll see you then," Grace replied as her friend turned and left. She sighed and frowned slightly.

A few minutes later Jane approached the counter where Grace was busy wiping down the espresso machine. "How was everything?" she asked when she saw him walking towards her, taking his empty cup and plate from him and placing them in a bin below.

"Lovely, thank you," he answered, then waited a beat. "So, who was the woman you were just talking to? I don't think I've seen her around."

"Oh, that's May Nelson, the friend I mentioned yesterday. She's been out of town a little while."

"Hmm. She seemed… sad to me. Like she's experienced a great loss recently," Jane replied solemnly.

Grace's eyes widened slightly and she nodded. "Yes. Her son, Matthew- he died last summer. He was surfing with some of his friends down at the cove and he drowned."

"That's terrible," Jane replied with genuine feeling in his voice.

"Yeah, it's been really tough on May. Matthew was her only child; she raised him on her own. And she was so proud of him, too. He was all set to start college in the fall. He was going to the University of Oregon, on a full-ride track scholarship."

"You knew him well," Jane stated plainly. The anguish in Grace's voice was unmistakable.

Grace nodded wordlessly, her eyes becoming glassy. "Yeah. I used to baby-sit Matty when he was little… Wow, I can't believe it's coming up on a year already. It happened last June, but it seems like just yesterday."

Grace paused thoughtfully, as if an idea was suddenly dawning on her. "You know, I should introduce you to May the next time she comes in."

"Oh, why's that?" Jane asked, even though he already knew exactly where Grace was going with her train of thought.

"Well, until a few months ago, there was a woman in town, Kristina Frye. She's a psychic… I'm sure you've heard about her from some of your customers. Anyway, I know that May met with her a few times, and it really seemed to give her some comfort, some solace. Maybe you could help to her, too."

"You think I would be able to help your friend?" Jane asked somewhat skeptically. He was a little surprised to hear Grace proposing this idea. After all, she had been sitting right there the other day when Teresa had read him the riot act and exposed him and his cold-reading techniques right in front of her.

Grace seemed to sense what Jane was thinking. "Listen, Patrick. I could see what Teresa was pointing out about you the other day- the little tricks you use and the way you read peoples tells. I'm sure that _is_ a big part of what you do…"

"But?"

"But I also saw more than that," Grace continued firmly and leaned in closer. "Kristina once told me that people who have a gift for this kind of thing often don't want to recognize it as such; but that it _is_ a gift and anyone who has these abilities has an obligation to help people around them. Deep down, I think that's part of who you are and why you do what you do."

Jane paused a second before responding. Her determination to think the best of him was genuinely touching, if completely undeserved. It would probably break her heart a bit if she knew who he _really_ was. "Well, I appreciate you thinking so well of me, Grace."

She smiled sincerely before straightening up to her full height. A group of customers who needed her attention had just walked in, so he stepped out of the way, gave her a quick nod goodbye and exited the shop.

As he walked across the street he contemplated all that had just transpired and what he wanted to do about it. Within just a few seconds of observing and listening to May Nelson, before Grace had even filled him in on her background and recent tragedy, he had immediately recognized her for who she was to him.

A mark.

The potential "big fish" mark he had been waiting for, with deep pockets and a vulnerable frame of mind that made her ripe for the taking. The way she dressed and the expensive handbag she carried indicated she was at least moderately well off. And when Grace mentioned the upcoming anniversary of the son's death, Jane knew that the prime window of opportunity for him to reel her in was fast approaching. Many years in the business had taught him that birthdays and anniversaries were always the hardest for people who had lost loved ones; if ever someone was going to seek out the services of a psychic, that was the time they'd do it.

But, instead of feeling that immediate, almost giddy rush of excitement he normally felt at a moment like this, Jane was instead filled with unease, an overwhelming feeling of dread. His time-honed instincts had certainly kicked in the moment he saw May, that's for sure. But his next immediate response was _how._ _How_ on earth was he going to proceed with this opportunity that was practically gift-wrapped and placed in his lap? _Would_ he proceed?

What the hell was he going to do?

 **Feedback in any form (questions, comments, predictions, etc.) is appreciated! Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yes, so things are starting to get a little complicated for this AU's Jane and some of you seem a little concerned about this. To be clear, this is** ** _not_** **"** **Fugue in Red" Jane (although I am fascinated by that side of the character). He** ** _does_** **have a conscience; he's just going to have to wrestle with it a bit.**

 **As with some of my previous chapters, this one is a bit of a mixed bag- some light romantic fluff, along with developments in the storyline I started up in the last chapter. I hope I'm getting the tone right with both, and that switching back and forth within one chapter works for you readers (and alternating between Lisbon's and Jane's POV, as well). Any feedback regarding this would be greatly appreciated!**

 **Settle in a bit and get comfy- this is by far my longest chapter to date! Hope that's okay.**

 **Chapter 9**

"Come on, old man! This was your idea, remember?" Lisbon taunted jokingly as she turned back to look at Jane who was now leaning up against a giant Sitka spruce adjacent to the trail. He had stopped to catch his breath just moments before, under the guise of wanting to "take in the fine view". Twenty minutes earlier he had needed a break to retie an errant shoelace; before that it was a prolonged stop to fish the water bottle out of her backpack. For someone so keen to go on this walk in the woods, he didn't seem all that prepared for the rigorous climb he had chosen for them.

They had picked up a copy of the trail map at Cho's shop the afternoon before, and Jane's eyes had immediately been drawn to the description of the "Amelia Trail" which winded its way from the ocean's edge on the south side of town, up the rocky bluffs and into a dense, lush forest, meandering and climbing for a few more miles until it reached its pinnacle- a stone lookout shelter clinging to the edge of the hillside more than 800 feet above sea level.

When Jane had read the description aloud to her, the words _strenuous and steep_ and its moderate – difficult rating certainly jumped out at her. She wasn't worried about this for herself necessarily. Thanks to her faithful adherence to the regimen her physical therapist had laid out for her since her injury, she was back in (almost) top physical shape. But when she had voiced her apprehension about the challenging nature of the trail and suggested an easier one instead, Jane had breezily brushed aside her concerns. Typical male ego, Lisbon mused. Like many of the cops she worked with who had over-inflated perceptions of their physical prowess, he was probably the sort of guy who thought he could just jump out of bed one morning and run a marathon if he wanted to. Not that he was out of shape, per se, just not nearly as fit as he thought himself to be.

She walked back ten paces or so to where he was, his dress pants, rumpled shirt and vest looking more than a little disheveled after their two hours of hiking. She passed him the water bottle with a sympathetic smile, shaking her head slightly.

"You're putting me to shame here, Lisbon," he stated grudgingly. "Are you sure you recently sustained life-threatening injuries?"

"Oh, yeah," she responded dryly, rubbing her slightly aching thigh, "and I've got a collection of beautiful scars to prove it."

"Well, I'm sure it _is_ a beautiful sight, Teresa… one I'd like to see someday," he replied raising his eyebrows wickedly before she smacked him on the arm. The impact jostled the bottle at his lips and sent water dribbling down his chin.

"Aw, thank you for that," he replied as he wiped off his face with the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt.

"Alright. Break time is over, let's keep going," she began. "We're almost to the top, see?" She pulled the map from the side pocket of her pack and held it out to him, pointing to the spider-web of crisscrossing lines on the page. "We just passed the intersection of that trail here, the one that leads to the parking lot."

"The parking lot?" Jane was aghast. "You mean we could have _driven_ here?"

Lisbon couldn't help but laugh at the look of shock that lingered on his face. "Come on," she said, grasping his hand and pulling him up onto his feet again.

They resumed walking side by side, and sure enough within a few minutes the light around them shifted as the trees became more sparse. They were leaving the darkness of the forest behind and approaching the edge of the hill overlooking the water. Within a few more steps the echoing sounds of the waves crashing far below them and the sunlight glittering on the water greeted them as the ocean came into full view, a stunning panoramic that was laid out before them like a giant rolling carpet.

The sky was clear and cloudless and as she looked out Lisbon could see the distant lights of fishing boats so far away they almost seemed to touch the horizon. She glanced over to the side.

"Look there's the stone shelter," she pointed to the right of where they were standing, and they continued up the path another hundred feet or so until they reached the tiny building perched on the side of the hill. Lisbon's heart fluttered when she felt Jane's hand on the small of her back as they entered the narrow doorway into the enclosure and leaned over its glassless window ledge overlooking the Pacific. His arm found its way naturally around her waist and he pulled her in close to his side; she leaned her head in slightly. The soft breeze cooled their faces as they gazed out over the water, the sound of far away gulls and water pounding up against the rocks filled their ears.

Lisbon opened up the trail map that was still in her hand and began examining it studiously. "It says here that the shelter was built in 1933 and that later during World War II it was used as a lookout station to keep watch for Japanese ships and submarines."

"Really? Hm…" Jane listened with a fair amount of interest, although at present he seemed more focused on deftly snaking his other arm under the unfurled map, clasping his fingers together and encircling her body completely, as if securing her in place. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

Lisbon fought to keep a straight face and continued reading factoids from the map despite the distraction of his warm breath and stubble grazing her skin. "Oh, and it says here that during the war they installed a giant gun in the floor, probably right where we're standing!" she exclaimed excitedly, scanning the concrete beneath their feet looking for evidence of this.

"Wow, you're really trying to kill the mood here, aren't you Lisbon?" he admonished her in a quiet, joking tone.

"Oh, and what mood is that?" she asked, meeting his gaze brazenly, a playful smirk overtaking her expression.

He turned his body to face her directly and carefully took the paper from her hands, which she relinquished willingly, instantly reading his next move. She kept her eyes trained on his and heard the soft sound of the map hitting the floor, and she closed her eyes as he dipped his head down towards hers.

It started out innocently enough. His hand that was already at her hip remained there, while the other reached up and moved along her shoulder blade to the back of her neck. Their mouths danced lightly at first, then as his hand delved into her hair, she felt the tips of his fingers graze her scalp and the sensation immediately stirred and intensified her own responses. She took the lead, parted his lips with her tongue and plunged in, which enlivened his own reactions as well. Within moments their arms were wrapped one another tightly and he was pulling her body flush to his, leaving her in no doubt of the effect she was having on him.

The mounting intensity was abruptly halted by the sound of two small children running up the path shouting spiritedly at one another. They broke apart before they were discovered, although Lisbon could feel the blush sweeping over her face regardless. By the time the boy and girl and their tired-looking parents reached the shelter, she and Jane had resumed their casual stance at the window, looking outward as if they were nonchalantly taking in the view in front of them. Lisbon began self-consciously tucking her messy hair behind her ears while Jane, as cool as ever, could barely contain his amusement at her flustered behavior.

"Is that your map on the floor?" the woman asked pointing to the large paper that had come to rest in the doorway, the corner fluttering slightly as if it might blow away at any second.

"Yes, thank you," Lisbon responded a little too quickly. She picked it up and smiled sheepishly. "I… must have dropped it."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jane give her a lively sideways glance, and she immediately felt her face tinge pink once again. She led them out of the tiny building to allow the family their chance inside and they walked down the path a few steps.

"So…" she began, still a little embarrassed that the two of them had almost been caught making out like a couple of horny teenagers. "Do you want to hang out here a little while longer, or are you ready to begin the hike back to town?"

Jane took the map from her hand and scanned it quickly. "I have an even better idea, my dear," he answered mysteriously with an unmistakable glint in his eye. He led them back down the path, and curious to see what he was planning, she followed him gamely. Soon after they reentered the forest, when they had just passed the point where they had stopped earlier, he took a hard right down the short trail that led to the parking lot.

Upon their arrival, Lisbon looked over at him questioningly.

"This lot is the trailhead for more than a half a dozen different paths," he began triumphantly, gesturing to the numerous cars parked in front of them. "There are plenty of people around. I'm sure we'll have no trouble finding someone more than happy to give us a lift back into town."

She looked over at him drolly. "Hitchhiking? Wow, Jane. You really know how to show a girl a good time."

xxxxxxx

Lisbon might have been skeptical about the idea at first, Jane thought about it later on that afternoon, but he was certain that deep down she secretly got a kick out of it. Just as he had predicted, they had only needed to loiter in the parking lot for a few minutes before making the acquaintance of a delightful couple from Tuscon. The husband and wife, along with their toddler son, were enjoying a late lunch at the picnic area adjoining the lot, and after a few minutes of small talk, Jane had smoothly mentioned that he and Teresa had had a long morning of hiking as well; that they had lost track of time and in their current exhausted state (Lisbon rolled her eyes visibly at _those_ words) they were worried about getting back to Cannon River before dark. As if on cue, the wife immediately offered them a ride down and they soon found themselves squished into the back of the couple's hatchback, the child in his car seat wedged between them. Jane had engaged the boy in a game of peek-a-boo with the handkerchief from his vest pocket and at one point he noticed Lisbon watching him with an amused look on her face, chuckling softly as he basically made an idiot out of himself for the highly coveted reward of the child's giggles and squeals.

It had been just over a week since that stormy afternoon Lisbon had first driven him home. As busy as they both were with the summer tourist season that was now kicking their little town into overdrive, they had managed to see each other almost every day since. Sometimes it was just for a simple dinner at one of the local restaurants or a relaxed walk along the beach where they discovered tide pools amongst the rocks filled with starfish and anemones. They even stopped in to visit Sam once at the small shop where she worked down by the bay. She was busy helping customers and couldn't talk long, but a warm introduction was made and an invitation extended to Teresa to come out to the cottage for dinner some night soon, which she graciously and happily accepted. While they were there, Jane had seen Teresa eyeing a speckled cowry shell with great interest, and he made a mental note to come back and buy it for her later.

Their conversations flowed naturally and easily, peppered with a variety of subjects and the back and forth repartee they both obviously enjoyed. One topic that hadn't yet come up, however, was his present occupation in Cannon River. She seemed to be employing a "don't ask/don't tell" policy when it came his business (at least so far), which he was more than happy to go along with. Until the subject inevitably came up, he was grateful for every day they spent together unfettered by this unpleasant complication- especially since he still hadn't decided how to proceed with regards to May Nelson.

He hadn't seen May since that day in the café when he first spotted her, and he had tried to push the whole thing to the back of his mind and focus the business in front of him. Traffic at the shop was still brisk; he typically saw at least a few walk-in clients every day, plus the handful of regulars who were on his schedule for weekly visits. All these customers were small-scale with uncomplicated concerns- people looking for guidance with their romantic relationships, career goals, family, etc. As "psychic advisor" in these situations he simply provided these people with the validation and confidence they needed to make decisions they were probably already going to make on their own anyway, with or without his guidance. There was nothing untoward about it, nothing he would ever lose sleep over.

Cases like May's, however- those were the ones that he coveted the most, but ironically were the ones that he ultimately dreaded as well. Sure, they provided him with the opportunity to flex his skills in finessing and manipulating, especially during communication sessions or séances, when his natural razzmatazz and flair for the dramatic took center stage. He always rationalized his behavior by assuring himself that he was providing people a valuable service in their time of grief, that he giving them hope and positive focus during a difficult period in their lives. Of course the fact that it all was built on a foundation of deception, motivated by his own vanity and greed, would inevitably trigger twinges of guilt afterwards, especially when he worked with people who had suffered real tragedy and loss. But these feelings usually dissipated by the time the checks cleared and he had blown whatever town he was living in at the time. And it wasn't as if he ever left anyone completely destitute in his wake- he only took inordinate sums of money from those who could afford to give it, as if drawing this ethical line in the sand for himself lessened his guilty conscience.

Jane felt uncharacteristically ambivalent and indecisive about what to do, which was troubling in and of itself. The reason why was certainly no mystery, though: Teresa. She might not like what he did for a living, but she was most likely unaware of the depths to which he was willing to sink to score a big mark like May. How would she react if she found out? How much would her reaction really _matter_ to him? They had known each other barely a month, but in that short amount of time he had felt inexplicably drawn to her, had set aside all practical considerations and pursued her fervently, and now was on the verge of developing very real feelings for her. A woman he barely knew - a cop, no less- was suddenly factoring into his thought processes and decision-making. How was this even possible?

In a perfect world, Jane mused uselessly, he would be able to put off making a decision about May indefinitely. But the very next morning soon after he arrived at his shop and begun brewing his first cup of the day in his little electric teakettle, Jane spotted Grace and May together across the street. They were strolling down the sidewalk and heading in his direction. And when he saw Grace pointing out his shop to May and the two of them started making their way across the road, it confirmed what he already suspected with much trepidation- they were coming to see him. Damn.

He finished preparing his tea, took his first tentative sips, and waited for their arrival. By the time they stepped through the open door of his shop a few moments later, he had his game face on and was ready to welcome them in his usual gracious manner.

"Good morning, Jane," Grace greeted him with her customary sunny smile.

"'Morning, Grace," he replied back. "This is a nice surprise."

She nodded and turned towards May. "Well, I wanted to properly introduce you to my friend, May. May Nelson, this is Patrick Jane, Cannon River's newest resident, as well as being a good friend to us over at the café." She gave Jane a little wink as she spoke the word _friend_ and he laughed lightly at her subtle reference to his "friendship" with Lisbon.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, May," Jane said kindly as the two of them shook hands while Grace looked on with satisfaction.

She then gave a quick glance down at her watch. "Well, I've gotta head back to work," she started, "but maybe I'll see you both later?" A small wave and she was out the door.

"Please, May, have a seat, won't you?" He motioned towards the chairs near the window and the two of them sat down opposite one another. "Would you like some tea? I just brewed a pot."

"No, that's fine, thank you," she replied, then paused for a moment, looking down at her hands folded anxiously in her lap. "So… I don't know all what Grace has told you about me…" She let her voice trail off and raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.

Jane nodded. "She mentioned you had a son who passed away, about a year ago?"

"Yes," she answered quietly, "last June."

"Well, I am very sorry for your loss. I can't imagine the pain of losing a child. It must be very overwhelming for you at times."

"It is," she replied simply, her expression stoic and strong.

Jane waited a beat before continuing softly and evenly. "So, May… tell me why you're here."

She seemed a little startled by his directness but also a bit pleased by it as well, like it gave her permission to be upfront with him right from the start. This was by design- it was an opening line Jane often went with. He found it emboldened customers with confidence, gave them the illusion of control that made them more likely to trust him right away.

May looked at him directly. "Well, to be perfectly honest, Mr. Jane, I never really gave much credence to this whole 'psychic' thing before. Like a lot of people, I suppose, I had a very strict religious upbringing that didn't really allow for beliefs in supernatural forces and people who claim to be clairvoyant or 'all seeing'".

"I understand," Jane replied with a small grin and nod.

"But… a few months after Matthew died, Kristina Frye came to me one day, wanting to talk- I imagine you've heard about her. Well, she was a neighbor of mine and had known both Matthew and me for years. And she had this real sense of urgency about her, like there was something she felt almost compelled to tell me.

"I invited her to the house that evening and when she came, she said that she had a message for me… from Matt; that he wanted me to know that he was alright… that at the end…" May's voice broke slightly and she took a steeling breath to collect herself before continuing. "That at the end, he didn't feel any pain; that it was over quickly and he hadn't suffered." May paused again. "That was _one_ question I had about the accident that I had agonized over the most- imagining him in that water…"

The tears that she had been holding at bay finally seeped out, and Jane reached over and handed her a tissue from the box on the end table. She took it, dabbed her eyes and smiled gratefully at him.

"Anyway, I don't really know how to explain it, I just had a feeling that what Kristina was saying was _real_ ; that Matt was _somehow_ communicating through her," May continued, her voice full of conviction. "Like I said before, I had never really believed this kind of thing was possible, but then all of a sudden it _was_..."

"Was Kristina able to communicate with Matthew again?" Jane asked gently after a moment.

"No," May replied with pained disappointment in her voice. "She tried a few times but wasn't able to reach him."

Of course she wasn't, Jane thought sardonically. Wow, he had to hand it to Kristina Frye- she had played May masterfully, hooking her in by appealing to her deepest fears, then stringing her along perfectly. She'd probably still be bleeding the woman dry if she hadn't left town to take her "talents" elsewhere.

"So, how can I be of help to you, May?" Jane asked, his tone calm and neutral.

"I think I'd like to try again. Maybe you would be able to… _find_ him. I think Kristina called it… a communication session or something like that?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, that's right," Jane answered, then he paused uncertainly, too. A sickening feeling was stirring in his gut, but the next words came out of his mouth as if he were on autopilot, unable or unwilling to stop them.

"Well, I can't make any promises, you understand, but I could certainly try my best to make contact with him."

"That's all I ask, Mr. Jane, thank you!" May responded, her voice flooded with relief and hope as tears pooled in her eyes once more.

"Call me Patrick, please," he replied.

"Patrick," she repeated with another smile as she stood up, preparing to leave. "Um, do you have a business card with your phone number so I can call you when I'm ready…?" her voice trailed off.

Jane walked to the table by the door, grabbed one of his brochures with his card stapled to the front, and handed it to her. "Here is my card, along with some more information regarding my services… and the various associated fees." The bile in his stomach churned once more. God, what the _hell_ was he doing?

"Well, thank you, Patrick!" she replied, almost happily. "I'll be in touch soon."

He smiled kindly and shook her hand goodbye, maintaining his composure until she left and he had closed the door behind her. He locked the deadbolt and his face fell sharply.

He immediately began pacing the room restlessly for a few moments, unable to sit still. He unconsciously clinched and released his right hand a few times, then grabbed his cup of now-lukewarm tea off the table and took it to the backroom where he dumped it forcefully down the sink. He placed his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned forward. _Get a grip_ , he told himself sharply. This is fine; nothing that you haven't done a hundred times before, he reassured himself. This woman is in real pain and you're going to _help_ her, that's all.

Jane breathed in deeply and refilled the teakettle and plugged it into the wall; he tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter as he waited for the water to boil. He was finally starting to feel calm again, his breathing more steady and his pulse regulated. Thinking back to the look on May's face when she had left and her overall demeanor, he knew she would probably be calling him within a matter of days, perhaps even later that very afternoon. Despite his present misgivings, he needed to be practical and consider what the next steps should be.

He'd arrange a preliminary meeting with her first, something he usually did before staging the actual communication session itself. For this first sit-down, he knew he could get by with just doing a basic cold reading on her; it would be easy and probably convincing enough. However, whenever the situation allowed, he always liked to go into that first session with as much information as possible- personal details and tidbits about the person that would lend credibility and weight to the whole affair.

He remembered a few of the things Grace mentioned the week before that might be useful, but it wasn't enough. And he definitely couldn't go back and pump _her_ for any more information; doing so, however stealthily, would increase the likelihood of Teresa finding out what he was doing. The very thought of that happening was so dreaded he shoved it into the back of his mind immediately and locked it up tight.

Then suddenly it occurred to him: there _was_ someone who could almost certainly be of assistance and would probably be more than happy to help him by giving him the information he needed. It wasn't ideal, he grimaced, but it was the best and only lead he had.

A few minutes later he closed up the shop, headed down the sidewalk and turned onto the side street that led towards the pub.

 **Okay- please don't be** ** _too_** **mad at Jane… or me! Things will work out for the best in the end, trust me. But it can't be** ** _all_** **smooth sailing now, can it?**

 **Thanks for staying with me on this! (Please stay with me on this** **:)** **)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for all the tremendous feedback on the last chapter! I'm glad people seem to like the developments on both the romantic and non-romantic fronts- I'm certainly enjoying writing them both, as well as showing both Jane and Lisbon's perspectives as their story progresses.**

 **That being said, this chapter is much shorter than the last one and narrower in its scope. Real life has left little time for writing this week, but I wanted to give you something, and I hope you'll enjoy the reappearance of a certain character we all love to hate…**

 **Chapter 10**

Jane hadn't spoken to Erica Flynn since that day he had come to the pub soon after his arrival in Cannon River. He may have caught a glimpse of her a time or two walking down the main road on her way to the market, and then there was an afternoon a few weeks earlier when she strolled past his shop and peered in while he was in the middle of doing a reading with someone. He had smiled appreciatively and given her cursory nod, which seemed to please her. But the two hadn't actually talked since that afternoon all those weeks ago when she had given him an earful regarding Teresa Lisbon- and had flirted fiercely with him.

As he approached the pub it occurred to him that there was a very distinct possibility she would be feeling slightly miffed at his inattention towards her. After all, he had flirted with her just as shamelessly as she had with him that day, and the fact that he hadn't returned to see her (before today) probably struck her as vaguely insulting. By the time he reached the entrance to the bar, he had mentally prepared himself for this likelihood and readied himself to lay on the charm, big time. He felt confident, though, that with a few flattering words and the proper finessing, he would be able to smooth over any ruffled feathers he needed to and that in no time at all her loose lips would be flapping once more.

From the moment he entered the dimly-lit place Jane could tell that she was aware of him striding towards her, although she was very intent on pretending not to be. They were completely alone save for a waitress setting up chairs outside on the patio. Erica was standing behind the bar slicing lemons and limes on a cutting board and tossing the slices into small bins nearby. She kept her eyes trained on the task in front of her and didn't speak until he was within just a few feet her; and even then she didn't look up until he sat down on a stool right in front of where she was working.

"Well, as I live and breathe, it's Patrick Jane." She gazed up at him, her eyes ablaze with a smoldering mixture of thinly veiled hostility and desire. "I was about to give up on you, you know."

Yep, she was upset with him all right.

"Hello, Erica," he began in his best conciliatory tone. "It's been much too long, I apologize. I could give you a whole song and dance about how I've been too busy to come by and see you again, and even though that's _mostly_ true, I know you're not the kind of woman who would tolerate that kind of garden-variety excuse."

She pursed her lips petulantly and tilted her head to the side before responding.

"Oh, I know you've been busy, Patrick. Business is booming, from what I hear, and I'm happy for you, really. I'm sure you deserve all the success in the world." Her words seemed friendly enough, but the edge in her voice was still apparent.

"Well, thank you, Erica. I appreciate that," he replied with a sheepish smile. He noticed the corner of her mouth quirk upwards.

"I've also heard the talk about the company you've been keeping _after_ hours as well," she began, arching one brow upwards as she tossed a handful of fruit into the bin pointedly. "Teresa Lisbon, hhuh? I can't say I was as happy about _that_ particular piece of news. I guess you could say I was a bit… surprised, to say the least."

Jane paused before responding, choosing his words carefully to avoid antagonizing Erica further. "Well, I know she might not be your favorite person, but there's always more to people than meets the eye."

"Oh to be sure. I've learned a little bit more about her since we last talked," Erica started, as she wiped her hands on a towel and leaned across the bar towards him. "Bret told me she's a cop, or _was_ a cop? I don't know; I'm sure there's probably some very dramatic story to all that. But, in any case, Patrick- I hope you don't mind me saying this- but someone in law enforcement? That's the very last type of person I'd picture you with."

"Oh really?" he replied curiously, deciding to take her bait, "And, what kind of person would you picture instead?"

Erica glanced down demurely and smirked to herself before returning her eyes to him and meeting his gaze intently. "Someone who sees the world the way you do; someone who can appreciate the shades of gray that exist rather than some goody-two-shoes cop who probably see everything in black and white."

Jane said nothing, just raised his eyebrows and nodded appreciatively, knowing how much it would stroke her ego if he appeared to at least partly agree with her. His subtle encouragement spurred her on and he noticed her icy demeanor starting to thaw as she continued.

"You, Patrick Jane, are a hustler; I imagine you're always moving around from place to place, using your brains to get by; never staying anywhere long enough to put down any kind of roots. I suppose there would be something undeniably alluring to you about the prospect of being with someone like Teresa Lisbon, a person who is so much your opposite. Don't worry; I won't hold it against you."

Jane smiled at Erica's assessment of his relationship with Lisbon. She wasn't totally off base with what she was saying- at least in her estimation of him and his nomadic lifestyle.

"You're a very perceptive woman, Erica. Perhaps you should be in my line of work."

"Well, I've been behind this bar long enough to be able to read people pretty well. I've seen all types, and I had _you_ pegged as a grifter from the moment you walked in here." A calm, self-satisfied smile spread across her face as she stood upright and began neatly folding the towel in her hands.

"So," she began then paused for dramatic effect, "why you don't tell me why you're here?"

Jane looked at her questioningly.

"It's eleven in the morning on a weekday, Patrick. I'm pretty sure you're not here for a drink, and I haven't seen you in weeks, so you must have a very specific reason for stopping by like this."

"Again, very observant, I like that," Jane replied, duly impressed by her discerning nature as well as her direct approach. "As a matter of fact, I am looking for some information on someone and I figured you'd be the ideal person to ask."

"Not a big fan of Google then, I take it?" she asked with a smirk.

"No," he answered with a small laugh, shaking his head. "And the insight I'm looking for is of a more… nuanced, personal nature."

Erica was positively intrigued. "Who is that you're wondering about?"

"Matthew Nelson."

"Matthew? Why do you want- ?" She expression shifted from one of confusion to dawning recognition. "Oh, I get it. You're pulling one over his mother, aren't you?"

"I am… working with her, yes," he replied simply. "She came to me and asked for my help."

"I'm afraid I don't know how _I_ can be of much help to you," she began in an even, almost listless tone. "He was just a kid; I didn't even know him."

"Well, that isn't quite true," Jane began gently. "You see, Erica, the moment I said his name your expression softened and the corners of your mouth turned down a bit as if you were saddened by me mentioning him. You knew him; maybe not very well, but you _did_ know him. Matthew was eighteen years old. You own one of the only bars in Cannon River, and in a small town like this where there isn't much for teenagers to do, I'm guessing that he and his friends were in here every Friday or Saturday night; probably trying to get you to serve them beer or at the very least, eating their weight in nachos and playing pool or darts in that backroom of yours."

Erica smiled faintly. "Well, now it's my turn to be impressed. You are very good, Patrick." She waited for a moment, as if carefully considering whether or not she was going to talk, but Jane knew he had her. She was ready to tell him whatever he wanted to know.

"You're right. Matthew and his friends came in here all the time. A couple of his buddies had some pitiful fake IDs and tried to buy booze a few times, but not Matt. I got the feeling he was kind of a straight arrow, the one who would rein the others in if they got a little rowdy or kept the peace if trouble came up. He had a good head on his shoulders, that's for sure."

"Sounds like it- mature, focused?"

"Yeah, although he was still such a kid in some ways, too," she continued with a little laugh.

"How so?"

"Well, he used to order grilled cheese sandwiches- off of the children's menu, mind you- and he would always cut them into little triangles and trim off the crusts. I asked him about it once; he said he got the idea from some book he read when he was little and a character who ate a bunch of tiny sandwiches, cut up all fancy… watercress, I think it was?" Erica snorted a small laugh. "It was just this funny, goofy thing he used to do, but it's something I remember about him so vividly in my mind."

As she spoke, Jane noticed Erica's normally cool, controlled expression had warmed somewhat. It was clear she had been fond of the kid.

"Memories are like that, I suppose," Jane began thoughtfully. "Some are so carefully constructed and preserved, while others that are seemingly random and obscure can remain just as clear in our minds."

Erica nodded simply then straightened herself up, her poised, nonchalant demeanor returning once more.

"I don't really have much else I can tell you off-hand, Patrick," she began enticingly, "but come by again sometime and maybe something will… jog my memory." Her darkened eyes locked with his, and he held her stare for a moment before he got up to leave.

"Until next time, then," he smiled and turned to go.

When he exited the pub moments later and felt the warmth of the late-morning sun hit his face, he closed his eyes briefly and exhaled soundly. He hadn't gotten a lot of information from Erica, but certainly a sufficient amount for him to make use of during his initial meeting with May.

More than anything, though, he was just grateful to have emerged from their little exchange unscathed. Her hostility towards him at the beginning had taken him aback a bit; her jealousy and wounded pride were more deeply felt than he had anticipated. By the end of their ensuing conversation, she had seemed pacified by his overtures, although not enough to make he him feel _completely_ at ease.

This woman was a wildcard, that was for sure, and Jane knew she could be downright dangerous if he got on her bad side.

 **Next up: Lisbon spends some quality time with Sam and Pete...**

 **Thanks for the continued feedback and support!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you again to all of you who continue to read and/or review so faithfully and a special thanks to those of you who are just discovering this story! I'm so grateful that people are liking it enough to stick with it- new readers are a lovely surprise!**

 ** **Back with a longer chapter- I hope you all enjoy it!****

 **Chapter 11**

"So," Grace sidled up next to Lisbon soon after arriving at work several days later. "Tonight's the big night, huh? Dinner with mom and dad?" she asked teasingly, her hazel eyes dancing.

Lisbon shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I told you yesterday it's not 'mom and dad'. It's Sam and Pete, the friends he's staying with. And it's not a big deal, just a casual dinner."

"If you say so," Grace responded skeptically as she grabbed her apron from the nearby peg, slipped it over her head and began fastening it around her waist. "But for someone who just a few weeks ago who was insisting this was just some summertime fling, meeting the guy's oldest and dearest friends seems like a pretty big step to me."

Grace raised her eyebrows expectantly, but Lisbon held her tongue, snorted a laugh and walked back to check on things in the kitchen rather than refute her friend's good-natured accusations. Any argument she offered would be half-hearted at best, and Grace was perceptive enough she would see right through it. Deep down Lisbon knew that despite her intentions and any claims she might make to the contrary, her relationship with Jane was moving along on a trajectory she had neither planned nor expected.

Okay, _relationship_ might be a bit of a stretch at this point, she thought to herself, but it almost felt like one considering the amount of time the two were spending together and the natural routine they had fallen into over the last few weeks. Jane would stop by the café at some point almost every day, usually during a time he knew they were slow and she could join him for a break. They'd chat about their respective days so far and make tentative plans to see one another after work if they were both available (which they usually were, unless she was doing something with Grace or just needed an evening at home alone to unwind after a long day). Their evenings together were decidedly quiet and low-key, which in a sleepy town like Cannon River wasn't exactly unexpected. But Lisbon found that discovering the simple pleasures around them, whether it be hunting for agates on the beach or eating ice cream on the benches near the cove, brought out a romantic and sweet side to him that she embraced with an openness and ease that was surprising even to her.

The playful banter that had been the hallmark of their interactions since the day they met had remained the same, and she continued to be entertained by his witty comebacks to her sarcastic comments and the playful jibes they hurled at one another. But now this light, easy rapport was often tempered with more grounded, sometimes even serious conversations.

As they explored their small town together she would occasionally point out places she remembered visiting as a girl when her family had taken their summer vacations in Cannon River many years earlier. When he had gently asked more about her parents, she told him a little of her mother's death in a car accident when she was twelve and her father's several years after that. She didn't go into the painful details of the aftermath of those separate traumas (how her father became neglectful and abusive after her mother was gone and eventually took his own life during her senior year of high school; and the way Virgil had stepped up and given Teresa and her brothers the support they needed afterwards so they could have some semblance of a childhood after the loss of their parents). But for Lisbon, who _never_ talked about her family with the men she dated, the fact she allowed herself to share as much as she did, that she _wanted_ to share it with him, pretty much obliterated her initial intention of keeping things with Jane strictly casual.

Lisbon had never been much of a 'relationship person' before, and she figured it was probably similar for him, too. With his vagabond lifestyle and breezy charm she suspected he had undoubtedly had a series of dalliances with women over the years. But despite this (or perhaps _because_ of it), there were times when he seemed genuinely shy and subdued, as if he was uncertain of how to relate to a woman he wasn't trying to hustle or con somehow. She thought back to the day before when he had come by to invite her to dinner at Sam and Pete's. He had his usual air of self-assuredness about him, but she also detected a glimmer of nervousness, too, like he was a little unsure of how she'd react to the invitation or whether or not she'd want meet his friends. It was in these moments, when his natural confidence mingled with an almost childlike vulnerability, that he was most intriguing and endearing to her.

Wylie arrived soon after Grace just as they were unlocking and opening the doors at seven o'clock.

"Good morning, Teresa! Hi, Grace!" he greeted them in his usual cheerful manner.

"'Morning, Wylie!" the two women responded at the same time, followed by a quick chuckle over the unintentional singsong unison of their voices.

The teenager tucked his bag away under the counter, carefully keeping hold of a stack of envelopes and key he balanced in his right hand. He turned to Teresa.

"I stopped by the post office this morning like you asked. Here's the mail," he said as he handed her the pile with the key on top.

"Oh, thanks, Wylie. I haven't gotten down there in a few days," she replied as she tucked the key into the register drawer and began sifting through the various envelopes, most of which were business-related bills and invoices. She stopped when she came to a colorful postcard featuring a photo of an idyllic-looking beach lined with palm trees and crystal clear aqua-blue water on the front. She smiled as she turned it over, instantly recognizing the slanted, somewhat messy writing on the other side.

"Another card from Virgil!"

"Where is he now?" Grace asked as she came out from the kitchen and stood next to Teresa, peering over her shoulder to see the card for herself.

"Sounds like he's sailing along the Baja peninsula of Mexico, then is planning to stop and spend some time with friends in California…" Lisbon continued scanning the card then she inhaled sharply when she saw what was written at the bottom. "And he says that as long as the weather holds, he expects to be back here by the end of July!"

" _That's_ a lot sooner than we thought- that's barely a month from now!" Grace sounded just as surprised as Teresa, and they both looked back at the card again and silently read it to themselves.

"So," Wylie began tentatively after a pause, looking over at Teresa, "does that mean that when Mr. Minelli comes back… you'll be leaving?" He sounded more than a little bit sad about this, evidenced by his saucer blue eyes and frowning expression.

"No, you'll stay around here for a while, won't you?" Grace asked hopefully. "At least until the end of summer! You said your job in Portland isn't expecting you back until September, right?"

"That's true," Teresa responded quietly, nodding to herself. She felt a mixture of emotions as she looked back down at the postcard in front of her. On the one hand, she was excited to know she'd be seeing Virgil again after his long absence. She had missed him- aside from the postcards and occasional emails they hadn't actually spoken to each other in several months. On the other hand, of course, was the reality that she would soon be saying goodbye to the good friends she had made, like Grace, and would probably be leaving Cannon River much earlier than she had anticipated.

Teresa breathed in deeply and pulled her eyes away from the card in her hands, looking up at her two coworkers standing next to her. She couldn't help but smile when she saw their matching hangdog expressions. As upset as they both looked, she was touched by the fact they were clearly going to miss her and saddened at the prospect of her leaving.

"Oh, come on you guys- it's not like I'm going tomorrow!" she began, trying her best to sound upbeat. "Even after Virgil gets back, he'll probably want some time to ease back into things- it's not like I'll be peeling out of town as soon as I see his boat pulling into the harbor. So, cheer up, will ya?" She felt a high school football coach, trying to rally discouraged players with some lame attempt at an inspirational speech after losing the big game.

Wylie nodded and grinned, then went to the dining area to begin wiping down tables for the first customers of the day who were now entering the shop. Grace valiantly erased her frown, gave Teresa a quick sideways hug (which Lisbon, who was caught off-guard by the gesture, awkwardly returned) and disappeared into the kitchen. With a pensive smile and deep sigh, Teresa taped Virgil's card onto the front of the register alongside the others and turned to greet the customers who were now approaching the counter.

xxxxx

By the end of the workday, the postcard and all the bittersweet emotions it had stirred up were pushed far to the back of Teresa's mind. Now all she was focused on was the evening ahead of her- meeting and hopefully making a good impression on the friends that were like family to Jane.

After closing up the café, she rushed home to shower and change, grabbed the bottle of wine she had purchased earlier in the day, then headed back down the hill to pick up Jane from work so the two of them could drive out to the campground together. He was sitting on the bench in front of his shop reading a book, his legs crossed leisurely in front of him, but he sprang up like a like a jack-in-the-box when he saw her car approaching. He jumped into the passenger seat and before she could barely get out her _hello_ , he reached over, cupped her cheek gently in his hand and kissed her soundly.

"Hey," he said softly but brightly after they parted, his face still just inches from hers. "I missed you."

"It's been, what, 24 hours since we last saw each other?" Lisbon cocked her head to the side and smirked over at him.

"Well, that doesn't mean that I haven't missed you, Lisbon, although it _was_ a busy day at the shop, so that certainly helped the time pass quickly," he responded as he leaned back to buckle his seat belt. He then added quickly, "Looked like things were busy for you over at the coffeeshop as well."

"Yep," she smiled and nodded, noting his deft move at changing the subject and not talking about his work. In all the conversations they had had over the last few weeks, his business was one topic that rarely came up, almost as if by some sort of mutual, unspoken agreement. The whole fake psychic thing was something she still wasn't one hundred percent comfortable about and knowing this, he wasn't about to broach the subject.

They made their way out of town, Lisbon navigating the twists and turns of the highway while Jane glanced around the car and took in the sights around them. The late afternoon sun cast elongated shadows across the road, and the open windows brought in the fresh damp breeze that whipped Lisbon's hair around her face. After a few moments of companionable silence, he turned to her and spoke.

"Relax, Teresa. You don't have be nervous, you know."

"I'm not nervous," she shot back quickly, her eyes narrowing.

"Um, yeah you are," he began in a kind, but knowing tone. "First of all, that high voice you just used?- dead give away that you're lying. Secondly, you keep tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, which is an obvious sign of anxiety. Plus you've got a mid to high end bottle of chardonnay in your back seat which I'm guessing you're bringing along as a gift as a way of breaking the ice or impressing them."

"Is it too much?" Teresa interjected, suddenly feeling uncertain about having brought it. It wasn't super-pricy but was indeed one of the better bottles for sale at the market.

"No, not all. It's lovely and I'm sure they'll appreciate it." Jane smiled over at her sweetly and reached over to take her hand. "I'm just saying that it isn't necessary because you have nothing to worry about. They are going like you."

"I don't know," she began, a deep furrow forming in her brow. "I'm a police officer and they're ex-carnies, and from the way you've described it, it sounds like a pretty insular world. I imagine they're a bit wary about having a cop in their kitchen."

"Well, I'm vouching for you and that goes a long way with them," he replied teasingly as he squeezed her hand. "Besides, Sam and Pete have both mellowed a lot in the years since they've left the circuit. That whole 'us versus them' mentality- the idea that you're either with the show or you're a mark- really isn't the case for them anymore. They're good people."

"I'm sure they are," she answered, smiling over at Jane, truly appreciative of his reassurances.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles lightly, then returned her hand to the top of the console where he lazily traced the contours of her fingers with tips of own.

"Besides," he began with an unmistakable cheeky tone in his voice as he laced their fingers together, "you're a very likeable person- when you want to be… You know, when you're not smacking people around or calling them names…"

He laughed heartily as she jerked her hand away and returned it the steering wheel, trying her best to not crack a smile. She could only keep a straight for a second or two before joining in his laughter.

A few minutes later they arrived at the cottage where they were greeted by Pete who was outside tending to their dinner on the grill. Introductions were made and he shook Teresa's hand and smiled warmly, then ushered the two of them into the house where Sam had just finished setting the table. The two women reintroduced themselves having met one another briefly in town the week before, and Teresa presented her with the bottle of wine. Sam's eyes lit up immediately when she saw it, and she placed it in the center of the dinner table.

"Oh thank you for bringing this! You know I told Pete to go pick up a bottle, but that husband of mine insists that _beer_ is the perfect pairing with everything." She shot a wry look across the room at her errant husband.

"And I stand by that belief, my dear," Pete replied affably, his dark brown eyes twinkling back at her.

He grabbed a platter off the counter and nudged Jane with his elbow.

"Come on Paddy, let's go grab that fish off the grill before these two start ganging up on us."

As the two men left Sam shook her head in amusement. She took a pair of wine glasses from the cupboard and handed them to Teresa then fished a bottle opener out from a nearby drawer.

"Well, I say if those boys are content to drink that cheap swill of theirs, then you and I oughta open up this bottle right now and enjoy it for ourselves. What do you say?"

Teresa returned Sam's smile and felt an immediate sense of kinship and camaraderie with the woman whose dry, sarcastic sense of humor was not unlike her own.

"Yeah, let's do it."

xxx

The fading sunlight streamed through the open window as the four of them sat comfortably around the tiny table, surrounded by empty plates and glasses and the remnants of their food. Any trace of nervousness Teresa may have felt at the beginning of the evening was long gone, and by the middle of dinner their quiet little meal together had become quite a lively affair. Sam and Pete had taken center stage, sharing all kinds of Jane-centric anecdotes and stories, spurred on by Teresa's obvious enjoyment and Jane's growing embarrassment.

"Do you remember when you and I first met, Patrick?" Sam asked, raising her eyebrows and casting a steely glance at him from just above the rim of her raised glass.

"Oh, now that's a nice little story," Pete piped in, taking a swig from his beer.

Jane groaned slightly, which Sam took as her cue to begin, and she looked back over to Teresa.

"Well, this was right after Pete and I got married, but this boy over here- couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old at the time- he hadn't met me yet.

"So, the carnival had just set up outside… Detroit I think it was? I was walking back to the trailer one afternoon and this little blonde, curly-haired moppet comes up to me, thinking I'm a townie, and tries to sell me tickets- goes through his whole little song and dance sales pitch, telling me about the great deal he can give me, backstage passes he has to offer- passes for what I don't even _know_ \- and the whole time he's going on and on, I'm standing there thinking, who _is_ this little shit? Trying to pull one over on me like I'm some rube from the sticks?"

By this point Teresa was practically doubled over with laughter, the image of a pint-sized Jane in full-on salesman mode forming so clearly in her mind. She looked over at the adult version sitting next to her who just smiled begrudgingly, shaking his head at the great delight his friends were obviously taking in having so much fun at his expense.

"Anyway," Sam continued through her own laughter, "Pete comes along and starts laying into him. Pretty soon he's chasing after Patrick, yelling and screaming- all just for fun of course- but this little scamp ran off and I don't think we saw neither hide nor hair of him for the rest of the summer."

"Now to be fair, Sam," Jane began defensively, "I probably weighed all of 45 pounds soaking wet at the time, and Pete was a pretty imposing guy from where I stood."

Pete chuckled loudly and nodded in agreement. "We had a pretty good laugh over that one, didn't we honey?" He smiled over at his wife.

"Still do, apparently," Jane interjected in a dry tone, taking a sip of his beer morosely.

"Aww, poor guy," Teresa gave a little pout and leaned the side of her body into his in a show of faux-sympathy, which he gladly accepted. His arm, which had been casually draped over the back of her chair, came down around her shoulder. He pulled her closer before bending over and placing a tender kiss on her temple. His unexpected display of affection in front of his friends brought a blush to her cheeks, and her eyes went down to her lap shyly.

The room was suddenly quiet; out of the corner of her eye she noticed Sam and Pete exchange a knowing look. After a moment, Sam broke the silence.

"So, what about you Teresa? Patrick says you're here through the summer, until Virgil Minelli gets back from his trip. Then you're heading back to the city?"

"Actually," Teresa glanced over at Jane briefly before turning back to Sam, "I just got a letter from Virgil today. He's coming back a little sooner than he expected, so it looks like I might be leaving in about a month or so."

Lisbon took a fortifying drink from her glass, then looked back over at Jane to see him frowning slightly with a somewhat bewildered expression on his face, which he quickly masked with a thin smile when their eyes connected. His reaction- and her own for that matter- was unsettling. Why should either of them be acting so surprised or upset by the news that she might be leaving sooner than they thought? It was just a difference of a few weeks. It wasn't as if they both didn't know this was going to happen eventually.

"Well, that's a shame," Sam began gently, interrupting Lisbon's thoughts. "I guess we'll have to get you out here for dinner again sometime real soon… while we have the chance."

Teresa nodded. "I'd love that, thank you."

xxx

A little while later, after the plates had been cleared and the two men began the task of washing and drying dishes, Sam and Lisbon lingered at the table to finish their bottle of wine and chat a little longer.

Sam leaned over and spoke in a hushed, almost conspiring tone. "You know, Teresa. I have be honest and tell you that when Patrick first mentioned you, Pete and I were a little skeptical- you know, with you being the police and all."

Teresa laughed lightly in understanding. "Yeah, I get that," she said with the small wave of her hand. "It's fine; I understand."

"Well, we're both glad to have gotten the chance to meet you. You know, Patrick's never brought a girl around before," she said, taking a drink from her glass.

"Really?"

"Don't get me wrong, he's always been a real charmer- since the time he could talk I imagine- and he certainly chased enough girls when he was a kid on the circuit… But you're the first woman I've ever heard him talk about, and I can tell by watching the way he is around you- he likes you, a hell of a lot."

"Well, I like him, too," Teresa answered shyly, her fingers playing on the stem of her glass. "Although, I know it must seem strange, with the two of us being so different…"

"You're not so different- I mean aside from the whole 'cop dating a conman' thing," Sam countered with the smirk.

Teresa nearly choked on her wine at Sam's matter-of-factness, but quickly recovered. Sam just smiled and moved in closer.

"I guess what I'm saying, Teresa, is that it's easy to get stuck on the differences, but the things you and Patrick have in common? I'm betting they're there if you're brave enough to look for 'em."

xxx

It was almost dark by the time they bid Sam and Pete goodnight and left. Instead of heading straight for her car, Jane suggested a short walk to the bluff overlooking the water's edge and the two of them followed the narrow path along the pines until they reached a break in the trees. From this vantage point they could see and hear the dark gray water churning and smashing into the rocks below them. They sat down on a giant piece of driftwood, and Lisbon kicked off her sandals, digging her toes into the sand.

"So, what did I tell you, Lisbon? They liked you," he said with a grin. "Especially Sam. You two looked as thick as thieves at the table after dinner."

Lisbon shrugged a little and smiled at his last comment then glanced back at the glowing lights of the cottage she could just make out through the branches of the trees. "Yeah, you were right about them, they're great. I can see why they've been such good friends to you over the years."

"They're family," Jane stated plainly.

Lisbon's mind went back to the crack Grace had made earlier in the day about 'mom and dad', and she grinned wryly to herself. Then she thought about what Sam had said after dinner- that despite the vastly different lives she and Jane lived, there were plenty of similarities between them, too. Surviving difficult (if not outright traumatic) childhoods was one thing; this she already knew. But seeing Jane with Sam and Pete tonight, she realized that they had both moved beyond their dysfunctional upbringings and gone on to create surrogate families of their own as adults; and that as independent as they were (Jane with his life on the road; she with her all-consuming career), they each relied on these people for a sense of grounding and support.

Still, she was curious about something else.

"What about your own parents?" she asked.

Jane spoke softly at first. "Well, I never really knew my mother- she died before I was old enough to remember her." He took a deep breath before continuing, his volume rising slightly but his voice remaining even and controlled. "And my dear old dad took off right around the time I turned seventeen, when he realized he could no longer wield his control over me like he had when I was younger. He joined some other carnival circuit after that, but I have no idea where he is now or what he's doing…"

His voice trailed off and they sat in silence for a minute or two, letting the echoing of the waves fill their ears. She felt his hand reach over and take hers carefully; his fingers grazed her wrist and stroked it softly.

"So…" he began with uncharacteristic tentativeness, an almost pained expression on his face, "one month, huh?"

"Yeah, something like that," she replied uncomfortably, averting her eyes from his gaze. God, why was this so difficult?

Without saying a word he bridged the space between them, turned her chin upward towards his, and kissed her deeply. It was gentle at first but quickly intensified as their lips fused together with a longing and need she hadn't yet felt from him. He placed one hand on the log where they were sitting to maintain their balance, then used his other arm to pull her in closer as he kissed her hungrily, almost desperately. Her own hands traveled to the sides of his face, raking through the curls above his ears and she shuddered at the feel of his warm lips as they trailed down the side of her neck and found their way to her collarbone. The heady sensation overwhelmed her and she was grateful for the support of his arm wrapped tightly around her.

A moment later he stopped suddenly and brought his eyes back to hers, their foreheads touching, their breathing ragged.

But when he spoke a second later his voice was clear and unwavering.

"Don't go, Teresa," he whispered. "Stay here with me… tonight."

She smiled and nodded wordlessly, then the two of them stood up silently and together began retracing their steps back up the moonlit path.

 **Eager to hear your feedback as always! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

****Thanks again for reading and sticking with me on this, everybody! The simple little story I originally envisioned being maybe six or seven chapters long has taken on a life of its own and continues to surprise me. I hope you're still enjoying it.****

 **Chapter 12**

Jane was the first to awaken the following morning as the predawn light was just beginning to creep over the mountains and in through the thin curtains of the Airstream window. He looked over at the sleeping woman beside him, her tiny body curled next to his, her back facing him, as the tangled mess of her dark wavy hair grazed and tickled his face. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and gently tightened his hold around her waist. He was determined to commit every detail of this moment to memory and tuck it away for safekeeping, just as he had with everything that had happened the night before.

By the time he and Teresa had made it back to the Airstream, the feverish, almost wild desire that had been coursing through him on the bluff had only subsided somewhat; it took every ounce of control he had to slow down and rein in his body's screaming responses to her. He hadn't wanted their first time making love to be some hurried, frantic tryst that would be over far too soon for both of them. He wanted to be fully present and give himself over to her completely; savoring each moment, responding to every movement and sound she made. He could tell it was the same for her; as they slowly divested themselves of clothing and inched their way towards his bed in the corner, her blazing soft eyes rarely left his. And as the pace of their kisses and ministrations increased, punctuated by their increasingly ragged breathing and gasps of pleasure, the heady sensation of their touching skin gradually overwhelmed them both. They had fallen onto the bed with a soft thud (which elicited a chuckle from them both) and when their bodies finally joined, they melded together naturally and passionately without any trace of awkwardness or hesitation.

As they lay together afterwards, her body tucked into his chest as she dozed off, he was overcome by a sense of belonging and peace unlike anything he had ever experienced before- an odd mixture of exhilaration and utter contentment, like being lost and found at the same time. It was the feeling of knowing he was exactly where he belonged at this moment in time and that the woman sleeping next to him was the one he wanted by his side for as long as possible, even though he had absolutely no clue as to what the future would hold for them, or what a future together could even possible be.

He was falling in love with her. He had suspected as much for a while, but now he was certain. What it meant or how it could possibly work, he had earthly no idea. But when she had shared her news at dinner that she would soon be leaving Cannon River and that their time together was rapidly ticking away, it was as if the shiny little bubble they had been living in the past few weeks had suddenly burst. No longer did he want to pretend that what was going on between them was just some idle flirtation to be enjoyed for a short time, then left behind like some forgotten childhood toy. This mattered to him- _she_ mattered to him- and as terrifying as it was, a burgeoning sense of hope and the infinite possibilities it brought with it was stirring inside of him.

He was an inherently selfish person- had been his whole adult life. So the prospect of turning his entire existence on its end and attempting an actual grown-up relationship with a woman- with _her_ \- was completely foreign to him. He had never even remotely considered it before, and now the wheels in his head were spinning madly. Could they find a way to weave their disparate lives together? Was he even capable of such a thing? Just as important, would _she_ even consider it? The questions raced through his mind, but no answers immerged.

Of course he knew it was too early to voice any of these realizations or questions to her. He needed to keep this to himself for a while, let the ideas percolate and see what plans might take seed. Plus, based on what she had told him of her own spotty relationship history, he got the distinct impression that she was a runner; that whenever things got too serious or complicated, she'd head for the hills and never look back. He certainly didn't want to risk that happening now.

So for moment he simply gazed over at her sleeping form and continued his mental inventory of the little things he was now noticing and wanted to remember- the funny soft snores that escaped from her throat; the smattering of freckles spread across her shoulders which were left exposed by the blanket that had fallen as she slept; the warmth of her body as it nestled next to his like they were two spoons in a drawer.

The harsh ringing of an alarm on her cell phone interrupted his silent musings. Teresa let out an irritated groan as she reached over and retrieved the phone from the pocket of her jacket, which was strewn on the floor nearby, and turned it off. She laid flat on her back for a second and let out a long sigh as she stretched her arms above herself, then rolled over to face him, suddenly aware that he was already awake and watching her intently.

"How long have you been up?" she asked with grin as she slung the blanket over her bare shoulders, the cool damp air from the open window having chilled the room overnight.

"Meh, not long," he replied, deftly slipping his arm underneath the covers and laying the palm of his hand on her hip. "But why on _earth_ do you have your alarm set for such an obscene hour? It must be barely past six."

"Six fifteen," she confirmed, "and today's actually my day to sleep in. Grace is doing the prep and opening up the shop this morning, so _I_ don't have to go in until seven."

"What time do you normally have to be there?"

"Oh, I usually leave the house around five."

"In the _morning_?"

Lisbon laughed lightly at his appalled reaction.

"It's not so bad. Besides not all of us can set our own hours like you do," she answered with raised eyebrows. "I have to say, though, I sure won't miss these early morning wake up calls when I go back home. I mean, as a cop I've got long hours and have to work my share of late shifts, but rarely do I have to be up before the sun like I do here."

"So the murderers and thieves have the decency to wait until you've had your morning coffee before committing their crimes, is that it?" he asked teasingly.

"I wish," she replied with the small chuckle.

He reached his hand down along the side of her leg and grazed it lightly with the tips of his fingers until he could feel the crosshatching of scars on the smooth surface of her skin. For the first time, he allowed himself to imagine her on the day she received these wounds. A picture of her being attacked and lying bleeding in an alley flashed in front of his eyes. It was an image so gruesome, so vividly conjured in his mind, that he pushed it away immediately. Of course he knew she was a total badass and tough as hell, but in her real life away from this sleepy little town, she worked a job where she put herself in harm's way and risked her life every day. The potential consequences of this were right here underneath his fingertips. It was another prospective issue he'd have to contend with at some point, he realized soberly.

"So, are you excited to go back? To your job in the city?" he asked after a moment as he continued to tenderly brush his hand over the tiny indentations scattered on her thigh.

"Yeah," she nodded, a pensive expression settling over her face. "The pace of life here... well it's been a nice change, but I know I couldn't do it forever."

"I figured as much. And you must miss making a difference," he said plainly.

"Well, everyone makes a difference, no matter what they do."

He considered this for a moment.

"Even me?" he countered sheepishly. His "profession" had remained something of a forbidden topic over the last few weeks. But he now felt emboldened by the newfound intimacy between them, and he wanted to know what she truly thought about what he did for a living.

She looked down for a second, a thoughtful furrow forming in her brow then brought her eyes back to his.

"Well, maybe not so much in your current line of work," she began with smirk, "but I think you make a difference in other ways. I've seen you, you know- sitting in front of your store, performing your little coin and card tricks for the neighborhood kids walking by every day. You're making a difference for them, brightening their day a bit. It might not feel like much, but I think it's something."

"I suppose so," he replied softly. He got the feeling she was just trying to be kind, but he decided not to call her on it.

Teresa shifted her body down and curled back into his chest, tracing lazy circles on his stomach as they lay in contented silence for another minute or two. But when he felt her body tense almost imperceptibly, he glanced down to see her biting her lip, a nervous smile starting to form across her face. He could tell by the uncertain look in her eyes there was something she was dieing to say but couldn't quite speak it out loud.

"Go ahead and ask me, Teresa."

"What?" she asked obtusely.

He raised his eyebrows at her and gave her an "I know what you're thinking so you might as well tell me" look.

She shook her head begrudgingly and exhaled a soft chuckle, looking slightly annoyed that he was able to read her so well. "I was just wondering… if you really _like_ what you do, this whole 'psychic medium' thing."

Jane smiled to himself, immediately reading between the lines of what she was asking.

"You mean do I ever feel bad about it?"

"Yeah," she glanced back up, looking him squarely in the eye. The tone of her voice wasn't challenging or judgmental; he could see by the expression on her face she was just genuinely curious to know.

He looked over and traced the edges of the blanket idly. "Sometimes, I suppose, but most of the time, no. Most people who come to see me… they aren't really relying on me or my 'vision' for any guidance. They just want some validation, someone to talk to who will give them the confidence they need to make decisions for themselves- decisions they'd probably make on their own anyway, with or without my input. Deep down, whether they realize it or not, most of them don't think any of it is real. They just want to believe that it's possible, like those kids with my magic tricks."

He turned his eyes back towards hers. Lisbon's expression was contemplative and soft, and he could tell that while she may be totally convinced by what he was saying, she was making an effort to at least understand it.

"Well, I suppose that might be the case for some people," she began with a small shrug, "and at least you're not like one of those guys you see on TV and hear about on the news; the ones in their shiny Armani suits, preying on little old ladies and bilking them out of their life savings…"

She leaned into him more and reached her hand around his chest, tucking it underneath him and relaxing her body into his once again. He smiled down and planted a kiss on the top her head as she let out a relaxed sigh and closed her eyes.

But his smile quickly faded as her words lingered and echoed in his brain. Suddenly the happiness of the morning was tainted; the hope and exhilaration he had felt just minutes earlier was replaced by feelings of dread and unease.

She had no idea what he was capable of doing- or of what he was about to do.

xxxxx

Just a few hours later, Jane was knocking on May Nelson's door.

He had made the appointment with her over a week ago, but of course the inauspicious timing of it, coming just after the night he had spent with Teresa, made his ambivalent feelings about the whole situation even more pronounced. His right hand twitched anxiously as he waited for May to answer but he breathed in deeply and put on his game face as he always did.

When she answered the door she greeted him warmly and ushered him inside. They walked into the modern but cozy interior of the great room that lay just beyond the foyer, and his eyes swept the impressive room. A pair of large picture windows overlooking the bay took up most of the wall in front of him. At one end of the room was a giant fieldstone fireplace, the mantle of which was covered with framed photographs of May and her son; on the other end of the room was a dining area with a swinging door he assumed led into the kitchen.

"So, Patrick," May began tentatively, "I don't really know how you go about doing this, but do you… need anything before you start? You're a tea drinker, right? Would you like me to brew a pot?"

"That would be lovely, May, thank you," he replied, knowing that playing the part of hostess might help put the anxious woman at ease. She smiled and excused herself to the kitchen then returned a minute later.

"It'll just be a few minutes to get the water boiling," she told him.

"Thank you, May, and please…" his voice was kind and reassuring, "I know this must be strange for you, having me here, but try to relax as much as you can. Remember what we're doing today is just a preliminary session, a chance for me to see the home where Matthew grew up and begin to get a sense of who he was. I don't expect I'll be able to contact him today; in fact I don't even intend to try."

She nodded in understanding. "So, where would you like to start?"

"Why don't you show me his bedroom?" he answered quietly.

"Of course," she answered and led him down the hallway off the foyer.

When they reached the door at the end, she opened it and motioned for him to step inside. As Jane expected, the room had an eerie, almost reverent feel, as if it were suspended in time. Everything that had belonged to the young man who had lived here remained in its place, probably just as he left it on the day he had died; a small pile of books and college brochures stacked on the dresser; a plaid flannel shirt hanging off the back of the desk chair; a backpack on the floor in the corner. Jane leaned in and peered at the various mementos and snapshots that covered the bulletin board above the desk and immediately picked out Matthew's face that was featured in most of them. In every picture- whether it was a candid shot of him and his friends with their surfboards at the beach or the group photo of his high school track team- he wore a wide, confident smile and sunny expression. He looked happy and self-assured, a kid with his entire life and a bright future ahead of him. The tragedy of his life having been cut so short hit Jane unexpectedly; he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as he surveyed the rest of the room somberly.

The faint, faraway whistling of the teakettle brought him out of his thoughts, and he smiled weakly at May as the two of them silently left Matthew's bedroom and returned to the dining room table. As May disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the tea, Jane sat down and steadied himself for what he knew he was going to do and say next.

"Matthew had a happy childhood, May," he began softly when she joined him a few minutes later and placed the steaming cup in front of him. "It's obvious how devoted you were to him and what a hardworking, disciplined young man he grew into."

"That's true," she nodded and smiled proudly, "although I really don't know where he got that from."

"He got it from you," he replied immediately. "He saw all the sacrifices you made for him growing up, to give him the life and security you wanted him to have. And during the last few years of his life I believe he came to appreciate that more and more; he wanted to make you proud of him."

"I _was_ proud."

"And he knew that," Jane replied with kindness and certainty in his voice. He jerked his head to the side and closed his eyes dramatically for a moment.

"Patrick… where is all this coming from? Is Matthew… _here_ now? Can you see him?"

"No." He shook his head and furrowed his brow as if he were stunned or disturbed by something. "No, but I…I just got a flash- a image of him in my mind, almost like an echo of his presence here. But it's not of him as a teenager; he's maybe eight or nine years old. He's sitting in a chair but he's so small his feet can't quite touch the floor yet." Jane noticed May's eyes dart to the empty seat across from her and he nodded towards it. "He used to sit right there."

May stifled a nervous laugh and nodded through unshed tears.

"The picture I'm seeing of him…" he looked over at May quizzically. "He's eating a... a grilled cheese sandwich. It's cut into little triangles and the crusts have been taken off. Does that mean anything to you?"

May was almost too astonished to speak.

"Yes! I…I used to do that for him. His teacher at school had read a book out loud to his class…"

"The Trumpet of the Swan," he completed her sentence.

"That's right!" Her eyes lit up in amazement. "The character in the story stayed at a fancy hotel and ordered room service- tiny little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Matthew- he thought that sounded fun, so one day he asked me to do that with his lunch. Eventually, it just became this thing of his…how he always ate them."

By now her tears were flowing freely, and yet at the same time she seemed almost overjoyed by what Jane was telling her.

"Patrick, how… why would you be able to see this?" she asked in astonishment as she wiped her cheeks with the edge of her sleeve.

He tilted his head downwards and shrugged a bit, trying to appear modest. "I can't say for certain what it means, May. Perhaps it's just a happy memory of his that's lingering here. Or maybe this is his way of thanking you, for all the little things you did throughout his life that made him feel special and loved."

May's eyes brimmed with tears once more, and Patrick took a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in her hand. She nodded gratefully.

"Do you see anything else?" she asked hopefully once she had composed herself.

"No," he answered with a small shake of his head. "Nothing right now, but maybe there'll be more when we attempt an actual communication with him later on at some point."

"I want to try that," she replied firmly then exhaled soundly. "I'm going out of town for work tomorrow. I'll be gone for about a week, but as soon as I get back… I _need_ to try."

Jane tamped down on the guilt and self-loathing that were brewing inside of him, hoping like hell it wasn't showing on his face. He nodded simply and placed his hand on hers.

"Give me a call when you get back."

xxxxxx

It wasn't until after the morning rush had died down that Grace finally cornered her. The café was nearly empty. Wylie had run across the street to the market to grab a soda, and aside from Cho, who was sitting at a table nearby eating his breakfast and reading a book, there was no one else within earshot. Of course Teresa knew it was coming- the barrage of questions about the evening before- but she was grateful to have had at least a few hours of peace before the inevitable onslaught began. She was still trying to figure out for herself how she felt about everything that had happened in the last twelve hours. She was happy, of course, and had already replayed several of amazing moments from her and Jane's night together in her mind (several times in fact). But what it all meant moving forward? That was a different issue altogether.

God, how had she let things get this far? Why had she allowed herself to get emotionally invested in this man and set herself up for heartache like this? She was falling for the guy, no question about it, but also just as obvious to her was the fact that the two of them had an expiration date and it was fast approaching. Whatever this relationship was, as incredible as it felt at the moment, it would soon reach its inevitable conclusion. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid.

"So…tell me about last night!" Grace appeared at her side and leaned her hip up against the counter. "What were his friends like?"

"They were great," Teresa couldn't help but smile widely. "They made me feel at home right away and we had such a fun time at dinner. They told me all kinds of embarrassing stories about Jane when he was a kid."

"Oh yeah?" Grace grinned back at her.

"Yeah." Teresa paused. "But I think what I loved most was just… being with them all together like that, you know? Watching him joke around with them and seeing this bond the three of them have… I guess I've always thought of Jane as this rootless person, with no real ties to anyone or anything. But… this was a different side of him, one I hadn't really seen before."

"It sounds nice," Grace said.

Teresa nodded and smirked to herself- of course the evening had been more than just _nice_ , not that she was about to go into the lurid details about _that_. To her horror she felt her face immediately tinge pink, which of course did not go unnoticed by her eagle-eyed friend.

"Oh my god, did you…" Grace's face broke out into a huge grin as she covered her mouth with her hand. "You spent the night with him!"

By now Teresa's face was a deep crimson; all she could do was nod sheepishly while her friend practically squealed with delight.

"Oh my god, tell me how it happened," she exclaimed excitedly before whispering mischievously, "Did he have to sneak you in through his bedroom window after Sam and Pete had fallen asleep?"

"Stop it!" Lisbon was just about to smack her friend on the arm when the bell on the front door rang cheerfully. The two women looked over to see Rigsby entering the shop, his travel mug in hand and a curious look on his face.

"What's going on?" he inquired as he approached the two women behind the counter.

Cho stood up from the table where he had been sitting and brushed past his friend.

"Lisbon's sleeping with the psychic across the street," he deadpanned as he set his empty cup and plate on the counter and glanced over at his friend, "and I'm leaving."

Seconds later he was out the door. Grace and Rigsby stifled their amused giggles, seeing as Teresa looked as though she were ready to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. Much to her relief, by the time Wylie returned from the market a few minutes later, her sex life was (thankfully) no longer the topic of conversation, and after Wayne left, the three coworkers resumed preparations for the lunch rush ahead.

It was a little while later that Teresa heard the ringing of the doorbell once again and came out of the kitchen to greet the customer standing by the register; a beautiful statuesque woman with short, carefully styled dark hair and a cool expression on her face. It took her a second or two to place her; then Teresa recognized her as the bartender from the pub down the street.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

"I'd like an macchiato, please," she answered stiffly as she took a shiny leather wallet out of her purse. She looked over at Grace who had just emerged from the kitchen to begin preparing the drink and smiled warmly at her. "Oh, good morning, Grace. It's nice to see you."

"Hi, Erica," the redhead replied in her usual friendly manner.

Erica turned back to Teresa and handed her the cash, and as she made change, Teresa noticed the woman eyeing her coolly.

"Teresa, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right."

Erica smiled icily. "I don't know if we've ever really introduced ourselves. My name's Erica. I own the pub just around the corner."

"Yes, of course. Nice to meet you," Teresa replied, trying her best to act normally, even though just seconds earlier the woman in front of her had been shooting daggers at her with her eyes.

"Well, I've been meaning to come by and say hello," Erica began, a curiously sweet tone in her voice. "You and I have a friend in common."

"Really, who's that?" By this point Teresa was beyond confused and curious as to what this woman's deal was.

"Patrick Jane," she replied simply with the arch of her brow, her eyes trained on Lisbon's. Teresa could tell Erica was trying to gauge her reaction to what she had just said- and perhaps trying to provoke one as well.

Lisbon kept a straight face; this woman was clearly trying to get a rise out of her, for whatever reason, and she wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. Instead she just chuckled lightly.

"Well, that isn't surprising. Jane's the kind of guy who makes friends wherever he goes."

Erica nodded curtly. "Yes, he's a very charming man. I… haven't seen around in a little while. You'll tell him hello for me?"

"Sure," Lisbon replied dryly, trying not to roll her eyes at this woman's continued attempts to goad her.

Erica grabbed her to-go cup off of the counter and turned to Grace. "Thanks, sweety. You're the best," she said condescendingly before casting one last withering glance at Teresa, turning on her heel and exiting the cafe.

The two women watched her stroll down the sidewalk for a few moments before Grace broke the silence.

"Well. _That_ was weird."

Yes, Lisbon agreed silently. Very weird indeed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks again for all the lovely feedback and reviews on the last chapter! It was especially nice considering that this site has suddenly decided to not provide any stats regarding how many people are actually reading this story. (Any of you other writers experiencing this glitch too?)**

 **This chapter is a little on the short side. Summer is over (sigh) and I returned to school full time last week, which leaves me with less time for writing. I'll continue to update weekly, though, as long as people are still enjoying this!**

 **Chapter 13**

Patrick Jane was antsy as hell, had been all morning.

After he had said goodbye to May he had taken a quick walk around town, trying to quell the nervous energy that had been coursing through his body ever since he left her beachfront house. He had maintained his usual collected demeanor throughout his time with her and had done exactly what he planned to do during their visit. His understated but convincing theatrics had secured the follow-up communication session with her that he wanted, just as he had expected, and he knew that when she returned from her work trip in a week or two, they'd meet, perhaps several times if he played it right. The four- or five-figure payoff, for which all this groundwork had been laid, would finally be in his hands.

But instead of that surge of adrenaline and exhilaration he usually experienced at moments like this, he was jumpy and anxious. He felt _bad_ for May and what she was going through, and his usual rationalizations- about how he would be helping her by giving her hope and comfort during a difficult time- weren't assuaging his guilt as they usually did. He had made it through his meeting with her by coasting on autopilot, sure. But when she had told him that they wouldn't be able to meet again until after she got back from her trip, instead of feeling impatient or frustrated by the delay, he felt _relieved_. He would be able to put off following through with the con for a little while longer.

His relief, however, was soon tempered by the realization that the unease and uncertainty he was feeling about the whole matter would now be prolonged. He might have a couple of weeks to pretend otherwise, but he would still have to make a final decision at some point and he wasn't looking forward to it.

But there was more to his present anxiety than just ambivalence about the con itself- there was Teresa. Keeping this from her, something that he knew she would disapprove of, made him feel guilty as hell, and of course the possibility that she'd find out about his scam with May was weighing on his mind heavily, too. If they were going to have any kind of future together (which he couldn't quite imagine at this point but still wanted), is this what it would be like? Him concealing the full truth from her about what he did for a living? Her being willing to turn a blind eye to it? She was too smart and too principled for him to be able to envision either of those things happening.

He reached his shop by mid-morning and after a few hours and handful of appointments (one of his regular clients and some walk-ins) he had managed to push the whole quandary to the back of his mind. Around one o'clock when he glanced across the street and could see through the café's giant picture windows that their lunch crowd had subsided, he decided to take his usual mid-day break to run over to see her. He entered the coffee shop and could hear voices in the kitchen (presumably Grace and young Wylie), then looked down to see Teresa struggling under the sink behind the counter with a wrench in her hand and an adorable scowl on her face.

"Need a hand down there?"

"Jane?" she gasped in surprise, peeking her head out from under the sink. She shimmied out and stood, grabbing a rag off of the counter and wiping her hands on it. "I didn't even hear you come in," she said on a heavy sigh.

"Obviously, you were pretty focused on what you were doing down there. Everything under control?"

"Oh yeah, just a leaky pipe under the sink- I've got it all tightened up now." She tucked a wayward strand of her slightly disheveled hair behind her ear and smiled widely at him. "I was wondering when you were going to make it over here today."

"Well, it's been busy," he began as he watched her wash her hands and start to prepare his tea in his favorite teal-colored cup. "I had a couple of appointments in the morning and a few drop-ins this afternoon."

"Yeah, you do look a little worn out," she replied in a cheeky tone.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Well if I look tired it's not so much working too hard, but rather because someone kept me up a little late last night…"

She snorted a small laugh. "Well, at least you probably got a few more hours of sleep after _someone else_ scurried off to work at seven," she replied with a smirk.

"I can't deny that, my dear," he replied sheepishly. He noted the softening of her features at his use of the little term of endearment; she looked slightly taken aback but pleased at the same time. "So what's your plan for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"Actually, I am pretty beat…and seeing as I didn't actually make it home last night- or this morning- I think a hot shower and a night of bad TV are definitely in order."

"Hmm, would you like some company?" he asked.

"For which part?" she fired back, her eyes twinkling.

"Whichever part you're offering," he replied smoothly

Teresa chuckled. "How about dinner? I'm not much of a gourmet like Sam and Pete, but I can order up a mean pizza."

"Sounds perfect," he answered softly.

"Good," she responded as she placed his tea on the counter in front of him. Her smile faded slightly and she took a deep breath before continuing. "So… I met a friend of yours today."

"Really, who's that?" he asked before taking his first sip from the cup.

"Erica, from the pub down the street."

"Erica Flynn?" _Oh shit._ He swallowed the scalding tea in his mouth to avoid responding right away.

"Yeah, she seemed to be going out of her way to make some kind of point by stopping by and introducing herself…" Teresa let her voice trail off and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Jane shrugged lightly in response. Well, this didn't seem _too_ alarming, he thought. If Erica had said something truly catastrophic, Teresa would have mentioned it right off the bat.

"It was just a little strange that's all," she continued after a moment's pause. "Any idea of what that might have been about?"

Jane smiled at her reassuringly. "Teresa, are you asking me if something happened between me and Erica?"

"No," she replied unconvincingly. "I mean if it had, I would understand. It's not like you and I have been together all that long." She laughed nervously before adding hastily, "Not that we're _together_ exactly…"

Jane did his best to hide his amusement at her flustered response, but he also felt the immediate desire to put her mind at ease. He leaned in and gazed at her intently.

"Teresa, I barely know the woman. I've talked to her a grand total of two times, and yes, I may have flirted with her a bit the first time she and I met. But, it was never going to amount to anything; it couldn't have."

"Why couldn't it?" she looked at him quizzically.

"Well, if you must know, the day I met her was the same afternoon I ran into you and Grace over at the pub. And after _our_ little conversation that day, I think it's fair to say I was too far gone to pay much attention to any other woman, least of all Erica Flynn."

Teresa looked down almost shyly for a second then returned her eyes towards his with her usual confidence. "Well, that's good to know," she replied with a smirk.

He held her gaze for a beat, grinning goofily. The way she alternated between her tough cookie exterior and this self-conscious side was absolutely endearing to him. She noticed the amused glint in his eye and swatted him on the arm.

"Go sit on your couch and drink your tea! I've got work to do." she said dryly, shooing him in the direction of the leather sofa in the corner. As he started to make his way over to his favorite spot, he noted with satisfaction the telltale blush just starting to rise over her cheeks.

xxxxxx

The late afternoon sun was beginning to sneak behind the row of pines next to the Airstream. Jane had decided to close up a little early and head back to the campground for a short respite before meeting Teresa later that evening. Making his way down the gravel driveway he noticed Pete in front of the cottage, unloading firewood from the back of his truck and stacking it neatly alongside the house.

"Ah, just in time, Paddy. I can put you to work!" Pete called out as Jane got closer. He motioned towards an extra pair of work gloves on the front step of the porch, and Jane smiled in acquiescence, taking off his suit coat and placing it on a nearby lawn chair.

"Well, I guess I oughtta do a little to earn my keep around here," he responded with a smile as he rolled up his shirtsleeves jauntily and grabbed the gloves.

"Ah, you know that's not necessary. I'd just appreciate the help is all, especially with this old back of mine acting up lately." He returned Jane's grin and the two men worked quietly side by side for a minute.

"So you're home earlier than usual. Business goin' okay?"

"Yeah," Jane shrugged, "you know how it is."

"Well, actually, Patrick, no I don't. That's why I asked," Pete replied a little gruffly. "You don't talk about it much these days."

Jane let out a deep sigh. "I suppose it's worked out pretty much as I expected it would," he shrugged indifferently. "I'm still seeing a lot of Kristina Frye's old clients; been luring in the curious townies and tourists for their tarot card and palm readings."

"Okay," Pete nodded slowly. He stopped working and leaned his elbow onto the side of truck bed. "So, what's the problem?"

Jane considered this for a moment. His old friend knew him well enough to see that something was wrong, and if there were anyone who'd understand what he was grappling with and whose advice he'd want, Pete would be the person.

Jane walked over to where Pete was standing and sat down on the truck's open tailgate. "I've got this client, a woman named May Nelson. Do you know her?"

"I've heard the name," Pete replied with a nod.

"Yeah, you probably have. Her son died; he drowned just over a year ago…" Jane paused before continuing in a low, strained voice. "And I've got her, Pete… I've got her hooked, and she's right there in the palm of my hand, just waiting to be taken."

"And?" Pete fixed his eyes on his young friend.

"And, I don't know if I can follow through with it. I don't know if I _want_ to." Jane tore off the gloves and threw them down in the bed of the truck in disgust. "Jesus, Pete, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"Why do you think something's wrong with you?"

"You know I've met with the woman twice, and I still haven't even taken a single dollar from her! God, if my old man could see me right now…" Jane laughed bitterly. "I don't know if he'd be smacking me upside the head or laughing his ass off."

"Probably both," Pete replied wryly.

"Alex Jane never backed out of anything in his life. One of the many lessons he imparted to me over the years- that you can't just back down when it's morally convenient or when you don't have the guts."

"Well, that was easy for him to say- that father of yours had a stone cold heart. But he saw something in you right away, when you were just a kid starting to work with him, something about you that made you different from him."

"That I was weak," Jane turned towards Pete.

"No. No, just the opposite actually; that you were smart and strong, that you weren't going to roll over and do his bidding blindly for the rest of your life. And I watched him, for years, trying to drill that spirit out of you and he couldn't." Pete paused before adding solemnly, "You are not your father, Patrick."

"I know that," Jane replied swiftly and dismissively.

"Really? Because from the way you're talking, it's like you seem to think you're destined to live a life just like his - as if you don't have any choice in the matter."

"I know I have a choice; I've always known that," Jane began defensively. "I left the carnie life, remember, Pete? I broke out on my own…"

"Yeah, and you just traded one set of marks and cons for another. How is that breaking free of anything?"

Jane let out a sigh of frustration and dug one of his dangling feet into the ground, kicking up red dust and gravel.

Pete sat down next to his younger friend and looked over at him, a sympathetic but serious look in his eyes. "You remember what I told you when you first got here? That you could do a lot more with your life than what you've been doin'. Well, I meant that… and I'm happy to see that maybe you're starting to figure it out for yourself."

Jane glanced over at Pete in bemusement.

"All these questions, these doubts you're having about closing the deal with this May person- I reckon that's a sign you're ready for a change. Not to mention you sound bored as hell with the other stuff you've been doin'… reading palms and doing the same old cold readings day after day? You really want to be doing that for the rest of your life?"

Jane chuckled lightly, but the truth was he'd never given a moment's thought to the _future_. He always lived in the present, engrossed in whatever his current scheme was, giving little thought to what lay ahead. Except until recently, of course, when he thought of Lisbon and the idea of having her in his life somehow. As if reading his mind, Pete spoke again.

"What about that pretty little brunette of yours, Teresa? Where does she fit into all of this?"

"I have no idea, Pete," Jane answered. "I mean, I'm crazy about her…"

"Well, that's pretty obvious," Pete interjected with a grin. "Sam and I saw that for ourselves the other night."

"Yeah, but, she thinks I'm just some two-bit hustler, taking people for twenty dollar rides. She might be able to accept that, but- she wouldn't want anything to do with me if she knew what I was really capable of."

Pete gave him a knowing look. "Sounds like even more reason for you to rethink things a bit, then, wouldn't you say?"

Jane exhaled on a laugh and shook his head at the surreal nature of the conversation the two of them were having. His oldest friend in the world, a dyed in the wool ex-carnie like himself, was sitting here trying to convince him to go straight. It was absolutely absurd, and yet, he realized suddenly, doing so _would_ open up any number possibilities- including a life with Teresa in it, one without the secrecy and guilt that was currently threatening to mar their chances.

"God, Pete, what would I even do with myself?" he looked back at his friend, genuinely baffled by the prospect.

Pete chuckled a bit and patted Jane on the shoulder. "You're a smart kid, Paddy. I think you'd figure something out."


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks for the encouraging feedback and reviews on the last chapter! I'm in the homestretch with this story (three, maybe four chapters to go after this one) and the support I've received really keeps me going! You guys are the best.**

 **Another short installment here, but I'm trying to keep things moving along nonetheless. This story has been quite the slow-burning romance, I know, so any actual concrete progress for Lisbon and Jane feels like a giant leap forward to me. I hope the pacing feels right to you readers!**

 **Chapter 14**

When Lisbon opened the front door of Virgil's house just past seven thirty that night, Jane was standing on the front steps with a bottle of red wine in one hand and a pizza balanced in the other. It was probably the most glorious sight she had ever seen in her life.

"Hey, you" she greeted him then glanced at the box in his hand quizzically. "I thought I was taking care of dinner."

"You did. I just happened to intercept the delivery boy in the driveway just now," he explained with a grin, handing the box to her as she ushered him into the small entryway of the house.

"Come on in. Did you find the place okay?" she asked as he toed off his worn leather shoes and followed her into the tiny kitchen off the hallway. She set the pizza down on the counter.

"Yep, your directions were perfect," he answered, placing the wine next to the pizza box. "Follow the switchback up the hill, three turns, yellow house with white trim."

"Good," she replied with a smile as she opened the drawer to retrieve silverware. "So, do you want a fork or just a-".

Before she could finish her sentence, she looked up to find that he had closed the distance between them and was descending his lips upon hers. She gasped slightly in surprise, but immediately molded her mouth with his and returned his deep kiss fervently. The utensils she had taken out of the drawer remained clutched mindlessly in her hand as she draped her arms around his neck and brought her body flush with his.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to do that when I saw you at the café earlier," he said on a heavy breath when they finally broke apart a minute later. "Although I knew if I tried any funny stuff in front of your coworkers, you'd probably belt me."

"Well, maybe you should go for it next time and see what happens," she replied in a teasing tone with the arch of her brow. His arms were still wrapped around her and she felt his deft fingers playing with the wavy ends of her long hair hanging down her back, still damp from the shower. She saw the smoldering intensity of his gaze reignite in response to her cheeky remark, and he swooped his head down to steal another kiss. She accepted it readily, but cut it short after a few moments, knowing full well that if she didn't, the two of them would probably end up having sex on the cold linoleum of Virgil's kitchen floor. Not that that would be a _bad_ thing…on the contrary, it would probably be very, very good.

"Dinner first," she reprimanded him jokingly, handing him the silverware and plates.

They decided to forgo the kitchen table and instead settled themselves on the area rug in the living room enjoying the warmth of the blazing fire Lisbon had started in the wood burning stove in the corner of the room. The wine and pizza were spread out on the coffee table and they sat side by side, eating from the plates in their hands as they leaned up against the sofa. When they were done they moved up to the couch, Jane with his legs crossed casually in front of him, Lisbon with her heels tucked underneath her and the rest of her body leaning into his. They sat in silence for a minute or two, looking out the picture window at the brilliant orange and pink sunset on display before them as Jane laid his palm on her back and rubbed it idly.

"This is a great little place Virgil's got here," Jane remarked as his eyes swept the cozy wood paneled room before settling on a collection of framed photos on the nearby bookcase. Most of the pictures were of the Lisbon siblings when they were younger, the most recent one being a photo taken at Teresa's police academy graduation, which showed her surrounded by her smiling teenaged brothers and Virgil looking on as proudly as any parent.

"You stayed here a lot as a kid?"

"Oh, yeah. After my mom died, dad started bringing us out here to the coast a couple of times each summer whenever he couldn't deal with things anymore. He'd basically just dump us in Virgil's lap and disappear for a week or two."

"Nice," Jane interjected dryly.

"Yeah, well, if Virgil was ever put out by it, he never let it show. He knew how much we needed him- and the escape, especially my brothers being as young as they were. He'd close up the shop early every day when we were here- even during the busy summer season- and take us out hiking in the hills or bring the boys out fishing on his boat."

"Not you?"

"Oh, god no," she answered on a laugh. "I tried it once and got so seasick. I ended up spending most of the afternoon with my head in a bucket."

Jane chuckled as she grimaced in embarrassment.

"But, I remember how much I loved the peace of those afternoons when I'd stay behind and be here by myself. I'd pretend that I was all grown up and this was _my_ house." She smiled wistfully at the remembrance then rolled her eyes a little. "I guess it's not all that different from what I've been doing here the past year. It's like I've been playing house all these months, on vacation from the real world, and now it's time to go back."

"Well, I suspect this place will always be a home to you, no matter where you are," he replied as he reached across and took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers.

"Yeah," she nodded and looked up. "It's the same for you, isn't it? With Sam and Pete?"

Jane raised his eyebrows and nodded in return. "I suppose so, especially as this nomadic existence of mine starts to wane and loses some of its charm."

"Really?" she asked with the furrow of her brow. "But, you've spent your whole life on the road. What's changed?"

"Well, the carnival was a community, friends who were like family to me. I was constantly on the move but always surrounded by everyone and everything I knew." Jane paused and cast his eyes downward. "The way it's been these last few years on my own- well, it's gotten a little _too_ solitary for my taste I guess. So much so …" he paused again and took a deep breath, "that I'm thinking about maybe settling down a bit; staying in one place for a while. Try it out and see how it feels."

She glanced up at him in genuine surprise. "Wait… are you saying you're going to stay here? In Cannon River?"

"Here? No," Jane answered with the shake of his head. "That little shop of mine doesn't exactly have much long-term potential for me. To be honest I'm getting a little bored with it and need to try something different. And as much as I'd love to stay with them forever, I can't keep imposing on Sam and Pete."

"So, what are you going to do?" Teresa kept her eyes trained on his and noticed an almost imperceptible flicker of nervousness and uncertainty flash across his face. He continued haltingly, his gaze darting back and forth between her face and their intertwined fingers; she hung on to his every word and syllable.

"Well, I'm thinking that a city might suit me better. You know, someplace with lots of options to explore, where I can figure out what I want to do." He laughed nervously but brought his eyes back to hers. "And it'd be nice to be somewhere relatively close to here; I could get back to see Sam and Pete every now and then.

"And, I was thinking I could choose a place where I already know someone." Jane swallowed hard; she couldn't believe how anxious he looked. His voice was now barely above a whisper.

"Someone who has become very important to me…and who is looking at me right now like a deer headlights." His face broke into an apprehensive smile, clearly an attempt to momentarily defuse the tension that hung in the air. But he kept his sea green eyes on hers and searched them expectantly, attempting to gauge her reaction as the dawning realization of what he was saying began to sink in.

"You want to come to Portland… with me?" Teresa gaped in shock and she pulled herself upright, turning her body so she could face him directly.

"Yeah," Jane replied simply, then tilted his head to the side and eyed her cautiously. "But now you are looking at me like I'm crazy and I'm thinking I probably shouldn't have said anything…"

"No! I'm not looking at you like you're crazy," she replied weakly, feeling completely off-kilter and totally incoherent at this startling turn of events. "It's just… this isn't a conversation I ever expected you and I would be having."

"Clearly," he replied on a wry laugh; he waited a beat and his expression was suddenly serious again. "But do you want to have it, this conversation I mean?"

Lisbon looked back at him intently; she couldn't quite fathom the full ramifications of he was proposing or what it all actually meant. But instinctively she knew the answer to his question and without any hesitation or doubt, she smiled widely and nodded in affirmation. "Yes."

Relief and joy flooded his features, and she could feel his entire body relax at her response. He leaned over and kissed her soundly, then grasped her hands and held them between his palms as he continued on excitedly.

"So, I know you're going to have a lot on your plate when you go back, reestablishing yourself at your job and everything else, and I don't want to get in the way of that. I'm certainly going to have plenty to figure out on that front for myself, but I can do that and give you the space you need at the same time."

"Okay," she nodded with a small laugh.

"And I'm thinking I can find some campground or trailer park on the edge of the city to park the Airstream and I'll be out of your hair whenever you want me to be. We can just see each other on the weekends if you think I'd be a distraction…"

"Jane-" she cut in tentatively.

"Or, I'll bring you coffee and donuts when you're out on a stakeout, if you _want_ a distraction…"

"Jane, take a breath. Slow down," she interjected before adding soothingly, "We'll figure it all out."

He did as he was told, then smiled softly at her. "Yeah, we will. I'm sorry- I am getting a little ahead of myself. I guess I'm just so relieved you didn't run screaming from the room when I sprang all this one you."

Teresa laughed again, but then a thought popped into her head and she bit her bottom lip anxiously. "So, what _did_ bring all this on, Jane?"

He looked at her questioningly.

"Are you making this… huge, life-altering decision because I told you I'm leaving in few weeks?" she asked her voice filled with trepidation. "Because if you are, you need to _really_ think this through. I can't be the reason you turn your whole life upside down like this."

"It's not because of that, Teresa," he shook his head firmly and met her steady gaze. "I mean, I'm sure that's part of the reason- but I think this has been coming for a while now."

He leaned forward a bit and brought his elbows to rest on his knees as he clasped his hands together.

"I was having a conversation with Pete this afternoon and you may not have noticed this about him, but he's a pretty perceptive guy. He has a way of cutting through the clutter awfully fast, and he isn't afraid to call things as he sees them."

"And what does he see?" she asked gently.

"That I don't like what I'm doing; that I'm not happy just coasting along and using my brains to get by like I've always done." Jane smiled wearily. "You know he asked me if I wanted to be doing this _psychic_ thing for the next twenty, thirty years of my life… And it's such a simple, basic question, but I realized today that I've never even asked _myself_ that before. I've never really considered what I wanted, beyond scoring the mark in front of me and lining my pockets a bit before moving onto my next scheme or plan."

Teresa's widened eyes pooled with emotion as she listened; it was a little strange and overwhelming to hear him speak so unguardedly about what had been, until recently, something of a taboo topic between them. And now here he was, laying it all bare before her. She reached her hand over to touch his and as soon as their skin made contact, he clasped it firmly and met her eyes.

"Teresa, I don't know what lays ahead for me," he shrugged before adding, "which I realize must sound pretty ironic coming from someone who's spent most of his life claiming to be 'all knowing and all seeing'."

She chuckled lightly as he leaned in closer and fixed his fervent expression on hers.

"I've got a lot I'm going to have to figure out these next few weeks and months… but one thing I _do_ know- is that when I envision the future, wherever I am or whatever I might be doing, I picture you there. I want you to be a part of it, somehow. And maybe that scares you and it's probably too early for me to be saying this- but I needed you to know that."

He raised his eyebrows expectantly then grinned. "This would be your cue to run screaming from the room."

"I'm not going to run screaming from the room," she replied softly, her eyes brimming with wonder and happiness as she moved closer to him and kissed him once again.


	15. Chapter 15

**My apologies for the lateness in posting this chapter! Keeping up weekly updates is more challenging that I anticipated now that I'm back at school (best laid plans, etc. etc.). But I DO appreciate you all for staying with me on this! Your lovely reviews and messages keep me motivated to forge ahead and carve out time for writing.**

 **Chapter 15**

The next morning it was Lisbon's turn to wake up first.

The sun was far from up, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room she could just make out the outline of the sleeping man lying next to her and the peaceful expression that was spread across his face.

As she watched his chest rise and fall steadily, she marveled at the fact that he was asleep at all considering how hyped up he had been the night before. They had made love in front of the fire, fueled by the exuberance and euphoria they were both feeling in light of their momentous talk. Afterwards, when they had eventually found their way to her bedroom upstairs, it didn't take long before she drifted off to sleep, the giddy excitement she had felt during their conversation having been replaced by an unexpected sense of calm and contentment. As crazy as the whole thing would have seemed to her a month ago- hell, even just a few days ago, she thought to herself almost disbelievingly- here they were. They were moving forward, making plans _together_. And it wasn't scary. It didn't make her want to kick him to the curb unceremoniously or bolt in her usual preemptive fashion whenever a relationship got too serious. Instead, she realized as she gazed over at him, all she felt was an overwhelming feeling of certainty and hope. She wanted to take this chance and put her trust in him. She was in uncharted waters, but she wasn't afraid.

She slipped out from under the quilt and padded to the bathroom down the hall where she quickly showered and dressed knowing there wasn't much time before she had to leave to get the café ready to open in a few hours. By the time she returned to the bedroom, though, the bed was empty, and she followed the telltale sounds coming from downstairs of cupboard doors opening and closing. She crept down the stairs and found Jane in the dimly lit kitchen, standing barefoot in front of the stove, half dressed in his light gray dress pants and unbuttoned shirt. He was clearly in the early stages of cooking breakfast, sprinkling chopped red peppers onto the top of eggs in the cast iron skillet and humming tunelessly as he closed up the carton that lay on the counter nearby.

"Making yourself at home, I see," she greeted him from the doorway with the quirk of her lips. He turned towards her and smiled tenderly, his tired-looking eyes brightening at the sight of her. She made her way over to him and reached out, encircling his waist and sliding her hands under his shirt so she could feel his smooth bare skin underneath her palms. He leaned into the soft kisses she placed on his neck, as he continued focusing on the task in front of him, stirring the eggs carefully with a flat-edged spoon.

She planted a trail of quick kisses on his chest and shoulder before tilting her head back and looking up at him.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked softly.

"No, not really. I just noticed you were up and thought I'd make myself useful," he replied as he continued to stir.

She regarded his swift, skilled movements with approval and breathed in the savory smell of the eggs and sweet peppers. "You're setting a dangerous precedent, you know- this is the second day in a row you've made me breakfast."

"Well, it's my pleasure," he replied with a warm smile. "Just one of the ways I plan to make my self indispensable to you," he added wickedly with the waggle of his brow. "I was actually amazed to find eggs in that fridge of yours that weren't expired, considering the fact that all you usually have for breakfast is a measly piece of fruit that you nibble on while walking down the hill on your way to work."

"How did you know-"

"Fruit bowl," he responded simply, nodding towards center of the kitchen island, and she sighed and shook her head in mild annoyance. These Sherlock-like tendencies of his were going to take some getting used to, especially since she got the feeling they put her at a distinct disadvantage somehow. Even though she considered herself to be a more than competent detective, highly skilled and as quick and observant as any cop she had ever worked with, the skills Jane possessed were clearly in a whole other league.

She leaned up against the counter and watched him as he worked. He was clearly at ease in the kitchen, unlike herself whose meals at home were usually of the Chinese take-out or "add water and stir" variety. This was definitely something she could get used to.

"So, how long do I have to feed you before you rush out of here?" Jane interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh, I think I can manage about five or ten minutes," she answered, hopping up onto a stool by the island, where she noticed he had already poured two glasses of juice for them.

"Perfect, you'll need a little time to savor this" he replied assuredly. He folded and flipped the eggs once more, before scooping them onto plates he pulled out of the cabinets for them. He grabbed forks from the dish rack in the sink and sat down opposite her.

"So, what are your plans for the day?" Teresa asked after swallowing a forkful of what were probably the finest eggs she had ever eaten in her life.

"I've got a couple of clients coming in for appointments this afternoon," he shrugged indifferently, then paused before adding, "but the number one order of business for me today is to call my landlord and give him my notice, let him know I'll be closing up shop at the end of the month." He grinned sweetly, which she returned with raised eyebrows and the slow nod of her head. _Wow_ , they were really doing this, she thought.

As if reading her mind once again, he chuckled. "Yes, this is actually happening, Teresa…" he took a swig of juice from his glass. He was still smiling, but there was a tinge of apprehension in eyes. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"No, not at all," her smile broke into a nervous laugh. "It's just a little… crazy, don't you think? What we're doing here? I mean, a few months ago we didn't even know each other!"

"That's true," he conceded with the cock of his head before leaning forward a bit on his elbows. "But I think I knew deep down from the day we met that we'd end up somewhere right about here at some point."

"Oh, really?" she scoffed at his brazen confidence.

"Sure. The moment I first saw you and those beguiling emerald eyes at the café, I was a goner; I didn't have a chance," he replied. His tone was breezy, but at the same time sincere and surprisingly affectionate. He reached over and took her hand, grazing the tips of his fingers of her knuckles. "I knew you were trouble right away, especially with that smart, sassy mouth of yours."

"Um, hello pot, have you met kettle?" she shot back incredulously.

"Yep, there it," he chirped. "Exactly what I'm talking about."

She made a half-hearted attempt to jerk her hand away, but he quickly took hold and brought it to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on her wrist. She felt her pulse quicken against his skin; he held her softening expression for a moment before releasing her hand. All she could do was shake her head and roll her eyes slightly before turning her attention back toward the plate in front of her.

 _Yeah_ , she sighed to herself. She was a goner, too.

xxxxx

It was an unseasonably cool afternoon just a week later. Jane sat on the bench in front of his store reading about beehive construction from a 'how to' manual he had just purchased from Cho earlier in the day. Beekeeping was the most recent addition on his ever-expanding list of potential professions, a list that included a wide array of jobs ranging from white color (hypnotherapist and jury consultant were amongst the contenders) to blue (carpenter, forest ranger, and now, beekeeper). On any given day his nimble mind was constantly spinning a mile a minute; now with the task of deciding what it was that he wanted to _do_ with his life, he felt especially scatterbrained.

The one thing he felt confident in, however, was that whatever idea he settled on from the infinite possibilities racing through his head, Teresa would be there in his corner, no matter how harebrained or unlikely his plans might seem to her. Sure she had already engaged in some gentle teasing about this latest idea ("What the hell do you know about _bees_ , Jane?") but at the same time she seemed intrigued by the prospect and encouraged him to pursue whatever felt right. She had his back, and he felt emboldened by her confidence in him.

He was busy examining diagrams and specifications of various hive designs in the book when he noticed a familiar face walking down the sidewalk towards him.

May Nelson.

He nodded and stood as she came closer, greeting her with his usual sunny smile. But it only served to mask the growing feeling of trepidation that was sinking into his stomach like a stone. The conversation he was about to have with her was one he knew was necessary, but would be painful nonetheless.

"Patrick," she addressed him with a soft smile and quick embrace. The emotional connection she felt with him, no doubt brought on by their last meeting, clearly had not waned since they had last seen each other more than a week ago.

"Hello, May," he began kindly. "Please, come inside."

He ushered her into the small shop with his outstretched arm and the two of them seated themselves on the chairs in the front of the room by the window. She set her purse down on the cushion next to her and looked directly at him with serious gray eyes.

"I just got back into town last night, and I wanted to come see you right away," she stated unwaveringly. "I'm ready. I want us to schedule that communication session, to try and find Matthew. I want to do it as soon as you have the time."

Jane breathed in deeply. "I'm sorry, May. I'm afraid that won't be possible…" He glanced down to his lap in a cowardly fashion then returned his eyes to hers. "You see, I'm leaving Cannon River in a few weeks. I'm closing up the shop and moving to Portland."

"Oh, I didn't realize…" she replied haltingly.

"Well, it was something that was just decided a few days ago."

"You must be incredibly busy, then," she responded softly, clearly dejected but trying to comprehend the full meaning of what he was saying. She sat quietly for a second with a pensive look on her face. Then, as if an idea was suddenly occurring to her, her expression brightened and she spoke again excitedly.

"You know, Patrick, Portland isn't _that_ far away, just a few hours drive. I... go into the city all the time, a few times every month for errands or work. Maybe, once you move and get settled, we could meet there."

Her voice was filled with such hope and certainty Jane could barely force himself to look directly at her. He shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, May. I don't have any hope or expectation of being able to contact your son, whether we tried here or there. I thought I could…" he swallowed hard, "but I can't."

"But you already did!" May exclaimed almost desperately. "At the house- you _saw_ him, or the _memory_ of him, whatever that was. You were so close to finding him- I know it."

"No…" he interjected weakly.

"Yes, I could _feel_ it happening. He was _there_."

"He'll always be there with you, May," he began gently. "The memories you have of him, the love that you gave him his entire life, the love he had for you. That was real; it _is_ real. And I sincerely felt that when I was in your home last week."

"Please, Patrick. I know this must be difficult for you. This gift of yours, it must feel like a terrible burden and maybe you're worried about disappointing me if you can't contact him again…"

Patrick couldn't bear to hear anymore and cut her off abruptly. "No, it's not that at all, May. You… you need to hear me when I say this." He leaned forward in his chair and looked at her gravely. His voice was on the verge of breaking, but he managed to hold it steady. "I cannot give you what you want, this hope that you're looking for…I don't have that to offer you. I honestly wish I did, because the pain of what you're going through- well, it must be excruciating. I can't even fathom it."

May averted her eyes, blinking away tears that were pooling in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, May. I truly am."

They sat in silence for what felt like forever. Then, with the swipe of her hand across her tearstained face, she met his eyes bravely. "Well, thank you, Patrick. I am… deeply disappointed. But I appreciate your honesty."

He almost laughed at the irony of her sentiments, but instead just nodded and reached over to shake her hand goodbye.

"Good luck to you in Portland," she said, managing her best feeble smile.

"Thank you, and I wish you all the best as well."

They released hands, and with one final affectionate tap on his forearm, May stood up silently and exited the shop.

xxxxxx

A few hours later, Jane was closing up for the day. Aside from his meeting with May, the afternoon had been entirely uneventful, and with that difficult encounter behind him, he could now focus his attention on the evening ahead. Teresa would soon be coming over with her car to take him out to the campground where they would be enjoying yet another dinner with Sam and Pete (their third in the last few weeks).

When she arrived just after four o'clock, Teresa tapped cautiously on the window. After he let her in, he noticed her linger by the doorway as he closed the blinds and turned out the lights. She scanned the room curiously, eyeing the trickling fountain, Zen rock garden and the rest of the New Age-y décor that adorned the space.

"You've never actually been in here before, have you?" he asked with a grin.

"Nope."

"Never dared to enter my 'den of inequities'?"

"No, I haven't, but better late than never, huh?" she replied on a laugh, picking up one of his brochures from the rack on the table next to her. She flipped through it idly for a few moments before folding it in half and stuffing it in her jacket pocket.

"So, what are you going to do with all this stuff when you leave?" she asked as she examined a shelf of geodes and crystals he had for sale, now with red tag discounts.

"Oh, I'll probably just donate everything to the thrift store down the street, although I suppose I could leave it here for the next fake psychic that might move in." Lisbon chuckled lightly as he grabbed his beekeeping book off the desk and fished his keys out of his pocket.

"Ah, so you _did_ buy the book!" she smiled

"I did indeed. And, in my reading so far I have come to the conclusion that you have seriously underestimated the complex nature of these fascinating creatures."

"Oh really?" she folded her arms in front of herself and eyed him skeptically.

"Yes. Did you know that the queen of a hive can lay up to 1,500 eggs in a single day? Or that the worker bees usually drop dead of exhaustion just after six weeks of work?"

Lisbon openly scoffed while they stepped outside and he locked the door behind them. "Oh, come on! Now you're just making stuff up to prove a point."

"No, I'm serious! I read that on page 23. I'll show you when we get to the car."

"I'm looking forward to it," she responded dryly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, placed a quick kiss in the waves of her hair, and the two of them began ambling down the sidewalk towards her SUV parked around the corner.

They chatted animatedly all the way to her car, so wrapped up in each other and their spirited conversation that they failed to notice the pair of dark, seething eyes watching them from across the street.

Erica Flynn was not happy with what she saw.

 **Yeah, a tiny bit of angst ahead- nothing too overwrought, I hope. Let me know your thoughts!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Just breathe, Wylie. You'll do fine."

Grace was standing over the shoulder of the anxious-looking teen, whose stressed, furrowed brow no doubt reflected the tension in his entire body. He held the gleaming metal pitcher of steaming milk in one hand, poised carefully over the cup of espresso on the counter in front of him.

"Remember- a quick, high pour in the center as you start, slow it down a bit and give it a little shake, then cut the foam right down the center." Grace smiled at the young man encouragingly then met her coworker's eye across the room. She had been practicing latte art with the busboy for over twenty minutes and Teresa marveled at her friend's seemingly endless patience with him.

Wylie inhaled deeply and began pouring, a study in pure determination and focus. He mumbled Grace's instructions quietly to himself as he went through each painstaking motion, until at last, with a final flick of his wrist, a lopsided, but clearly recognizable heart shape emerged at the top of the foam.

"I did it! It's a heart!" he beamed.

"Yeah, it is!" she replied proudly, giving him a sideways hug of congratulations. "You are really getting the hang of this."

"Teresa, come see this! I've finally made one!" he called over to her as he took his phone out of his pants pocket and snapped a picture of his accomplishment.

Lisbon, who was on her way to the dining area to begin bussing tables, couldn't help but get caught up in the young man's exuberance. She leaned over and examined the cup. "Yep, that's a heart alright. Good job, Wylie," she smiled.

He exhaled a sigh of satisfaction and continued to grin goofily at his creation.

"Okay, Wylie," Grace began, now suddenly serious, leaning sideways against the counter with her arms crossed in front of her. "So, now that you've accomplished this feat, I have to ask you- who's the girl?"

"Huh?" he replied, looking a little startled.

"The girl. We did not just spend the last half hour practicing this for no reason. You are trying to impress someone."

Teresa watched in amusement as Wylie's ears tinged pink and Grace narrowed her eyebrows at him expectantly. The kid didn't have a chance at avoiding her question.

"It's Michelle," he replied sheepishly after a moment's pause.

"Vega? From programming class?"

"Yeah, I bumped into her at the market the other day and told her I was working here. She seemed to think it was kind of cool and mentioned she's stop by this weekend."

"Aw, Wylie, I think that's great. She's smart and cute." Grace leaned in closer, adding, "And, I could tell she was into you, even back then."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why shouldn't she?" she smiled warmly.

Teresa grinned to herself while she continued to listen in on their little exchange from across the room. She was clearing plates and wiping down a group of tables left in complete disarray by a large group of tourists who had come in late that afternoon. Then she heard the clang of the bell on the door interrupting the conversation at the counter and looked over to see Erica Flynn strolling in casually and making her way towards the register. She regarded Teresa with a cool smile, then turned to Grace and ordered a black coffee to go.

 _Good, she can take her coffee and leave,_ Lisbon thought to herself upon overhearing this. She was having a perfectly nice day and really wasn't in the mood to have it spoiled by having to deal with this woman's nonsense.

She was especially annoyed then when, a few minutes later, Erica approached the area where she was working and planted herself at a nearby table. She took a few sips of her coffee, then set the cup down in front of her and looked over at Lisbon with a piercing stare.

"Hello, Teresa."

"Hi, Erica." Lisbon gave her a cursory glance but continued stacking dishes.

"Well," Erica began, crossing her legs elegantly in front of herself, "you are quite the little worker bee here, aren't you?"

 _God_ , this woman was unreal, Teresa thought as she paused what she was doing and picked up the dishrag left on the table next to her. "Well, it's a big place and there's a lot to do. But, I don't have to tell you that. I'm sure you know what that's like, running your own business."

"Yes, it can be a grind, that's for sure." Erica tapped the lid on her cup then glanced out the front window for a moment before looking up at Teresa again. "But, I guess we can't all be as fortunate as our favorite psychic across the street now, can we? The man sets his own hours, comes and goes as he pleases… and from what I hear is getting ready to pull up stakes and leave town soon."

It took every ounce of self-control Teresa had to refrain from rolling her eyes at this woman's attempts to goad her. Instead she just smiled vaguely and gave a small nod.

Erica pursed her lips dramatically and paused. "I suppose it's a wise move on his part, to get out of town now."

Teresa couldn't help herself. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's only a matter of time before May Nelson realizes she's been had. Considering how protective people around here are of her, it only makes sense Patrick would want to take that big payout of his and 'get out while the getting's good' as they say."

It took a moment for the name Erica mentioned to register. May Nelson was an old friend of Grace, a customer she saw every once in a while in the café but didn't really know well. But what Erica was saying made no sense at all to her. What did she have to do with Jane's business?

Realizing that her confusion was probably written all over face, Lisbon quickly tried to neutralize her expression, but it was too late. Erica pounced on her momentarily lapse and dug in, not even attempting to mask the enjoyment she was getting from Teresa's discomfort as she pressed forward.

"Oh, I can see he didn't mention it to you," she began with a sly smile. "Patrick came to see me a while back to get some information on May's son, Matthew. Do you know about him?"

Teresa's heart sank. Yes, she had heard Grace talk about the boy several times and his unexpected death last summer. She nodded wordlessly.

"Well, I guess I've been playing the part of 'consultant' to Patrick these past few weeks. He needed a little… _insight_ into the family's situation, and I could hardly say no." She arched a brow pointedly. "I'm not exactly… immune to his charms."

Teresa was seething but remained tightlipped, determined not to respond to Erica's obvious provocations.

"So, I suppose it's about time for him to blow out of here, and from the sound of it… he's got himself a nice little ride out of town, doesn't he?"

Lisbon had had more than enough.

"It's been really great chatting with you, Erica," Teresa bit out, "but I do need to get back to work."

"Of course. I've been a bother, I apologize." Erica stood up and smiled primly. "Well, in case I don't see you before you leave town," she held up her cup as if toasting her, "happy travels, Teresa."

Her expression turned cold and with one last withering stare, she turned on her heel and left.

Teresa's blazing eyes followed her out the door and down the sidewalk. After a few steadying breaths, the anger and annoyance that had been coursing through her the last few minutes started to subside and all she felt was shell-shocked and numb. She looked down at the wet dishrag in her hand that was now a twisted, knotty mess and tossed it in the bin crossly, then grabbed the bin and walked into the kitchen. Feeling the rage bubbling up inside her once more, she slammed it down onto the stainless steal counter and gripped its edges, her knuckles turning white.

 _What the hell was going on here?_

Of course Erica was just trying to get under her skin- it seemed to be a favorite pastime of hers lately- and yet what she had insinuated and said was so specific there had to be some truth to it. _May Nelson_ … what was that about actually? Had Jane been providing this woman with his so-called 'spiritual counseling' to help her through her grief? Or was it more involved than that?

She returned to the front of the store, still a little bit dazed. Wylie had gone outside to sweep the sidewalk, and Grace was cleaning up the counter area where the two of them had been working. Maybe she knew something that could help her get to the bottom of this, Teresa thought. Figuring that the two of them would have at least a few minutes alone, Teresa approached her.

"Oh, that kid," the redhead smirked as she nodded toward the cup that still sat on the counter. "It only took him about a dozen tries, but he finally got it."

"Yeah," Teresa nodded and smiled back weakly. She waited a few moments then turned towards her young friend.

"So, Grace. That neighbor of yours, May… has she been working with _Jane?"_

"Yeah, she has!" Grace smiled. "Did he tell you about that?"

"Not much, I've just heard a little bit about it, that's all," Lisbon shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "What's he been doing?"

"Well, I told you about her son, and how my friend Kristina had been able to communicate with him after he died, how he kind of 'spoke' through her?"

Lisbon nodded.

"Well, I thought Jane might be able do the same thing, so I introduced the two of them. And it sounds like it's been really amazing. It's given May a lot of hope, you know?"

"When was this?"

"Um, about a month ago, I think," Grace replied brightly as she wiped down the espresso machine and brushed stray coffee grounds from the counter into the palm of her hand. "I haven't seen May in a while, so I don't know how it's been going lately. But a few weeks ago when he was at her house-"

"He met with her at her house?"

"Yeah. And from the way May described it, it was the most incredible thing. He told her all this stuff about Matthew from his childhood- things he had absolutely no way of knowing: books he had read, the snacks she used to fix for him when he was little, all kinds of things. It sounded so unreal."

"I'm sure it was," Teresa replied robotically, in a voice that was hers and yet sounded far away as if detached from her body. She stood as if frozen in place and watched mindlessly as Grace grabbed the cup and saucer from the counter and disappeared into the back to begin shutting down the kitchen for the night.

It was nearly the end of the workday and Teresa couldn't have been more grateful. She took out the ledger from beneath the counter, intent on busying herself with the task of balancing the books for the day, attempting to ignore the torrent of emotions and troubling scenarios that were racing through her mind.

When Wylie came back inside a few minutes later, he tucked the broom away, placed the _Closed_ sign in the window, then grabbed his messenger bag out from underneath the counter. He readied himself to leave as Grace emerged from the back slinging her own bag over her shoulder. She approached Lisbon.

"Are you almost done? We could go grab a drink if you like."

"Oh, not tonight, Grace," Lisbon replied, trying her best to appear upbeat. "I'm pretty tired- I think I'm just gonna go home as soon as I finish this up."

"Alright," Grace answered kindly, as if she sensed something was amiss with her friend but didn't want to press the issue. "Well, I'll see you in the morning then."

She and Wylie headed towards the front together, and Teresa breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them and she was alone at last.

She scribbled furiously in the ledger for several minutes, writing and erasing the same entry numerous times before finally slamming the book shut in frustration. Then she glanced over at her jacket hanging on the wall and was seized with a sudden realization.

She walked over, dug her hand into the front pocket and tore out the folded up brochure she had picked up at Jane's shop just a few days earlier. She quickly scanned the first pages of the tri-fold pamphlet, which featured brief descriptions of the various services he offered- the 'spiritual counseling', the tarot card readings and the like. Then she flipped to the back where she noticed for the first time a small box at the bottom listing "Premium Services" and their associated fees.

She practically gasped in horror when she saw it- the four-figure dollar amounts listed next to services like _séances_ and _communication sessions_. It was right here in black and white- this was what he had been doing these past few weeks. This was the big payout Erica had been referring to.

Patrick Jane was a hustler; she had known this from day one. But over the past weeks and months she had convinced herself that what he did for a living was essentially harmless. As he had described it to her, he was just giving the people who came to him what they wanted; spinning the tales they wanted to hear, and they were simply paying him for the peace of mind and assurances he provided. She had accepted this, even though she wasn't crazy about the idea.

But, this thing with May, as far as she understood it, seemed to be operating at a whole different level. It was methodical and calculated. It suggested an almost amoral disregard for this woman and what she had gone through that she couldn't imagine him capable of. And yet, it appeared he _was_ capable of doing this. Everything she had heard from both Erica and Grace supported that conclusion.

She returned to her bookkeeping and finally managed to balance the day's receipts with the cash in the drawer. Just as she was returning the ledger to its spot on the shelf, she glanced up to see Jane jogging across the road and making his way towards the café. He wore his usual carefree grin on his face, an expression that under normal circumstances would make her heart flutter with anticipation. Now all she felt was a tightening in her chest as she walked to the door to let him inside.

"Hey," he greeted her softly as he leaned in for a kiss. She turned her head sharply so that it fell on her cheek instead of its intended target, and as she walked away from him, she watched his face fall sharply.

"What's the matter?" he asked soothingly as he followed her back to the counter.

She snorted in derision, seeing no point in putting off this conversation.

"Your friend, Erica stopped by again today," she replied bitterly, looking him squarely in the eye.

She saw a flicker of surprise and dread flash across his face, which he quickly tried to mask.

"She isn't my friend, Teresa-" he began with the dismissive shake of his head.

"Yeah, well, whatever she is to you, she gave me _quite_ an earful."

"About what?" She could see he was trying to keep his expression even and controlled as if bracing for something he knew (or at least suspected) was coming.

"May Nelson."

She continued to study him as she spoke the name and noticed his skin turn white. "You know, at first I figured Erica was just blowing smoke, like she did the last time she came in here, but then she started saying some pretty damning things that were a little hard to ignore." She swallowed hard. "It turns out you have been running quite the elaborate con with her these last few weeks."

"Teresa- "

Lisbon cut him off, her voice hard, the volume rising.

"And all the while she's telling me this crap, I didn't really believe it at first. I couldn't even picture it in my head... So I asked Grace, and she confirmed everything- that you've been meeting with this woman, doing readings with her, trying to reach out to the _great beyond_ to connect her with her dead son, which you and I both know isn't actually something you're capable of doing. God, what the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"It never got that far-" he began weakly.

"You went to her house, Jane! And apparently you put on quite the dramatic performance for her, which I'm sure was at least in part thanks to the information your shill Erica had given you."

She thrust her hand into the back pocket of her jeans and took out the folded up pamphlet, holding it up with her fingers gripped tightly. "Oh, and this? _This_ was the real kicker. _Thousands_ of dollars, Jane… How could you do this to someone?"

"I never took a penny from her, Teresa."

"Oh, come on," she scoffed. "You met with her for almost a month!"

"Teresa, you have to believe me when I tell you this." He stepped closer and looked at her with a fervent, serious expression. "I didn't take her money. Yes, I met with her a few of times, I did a reading on her, and at the beginning of it all I had every intention of following through on it." He exhaled sharply. "But I didn't. I _swear_ to you."

Lisbon gazed at him through unshed tears and couldn't help but believe him. It was, however, of little consolation to her at the moment.

"It's not just about the money," she began mournfully. "You preyed upon this woman, Jane. You used her child's death- probably the worst thing that could happen to a person, to a _mother_ \- and you turned it into some kind of twisted game for yourself, like she was some sort of challenge for you."

By now her breathing was hitched and her voice on the verge of breaking. "What kind of person does that?"

His eyes were cast downward, filled with a shame and self-loathing she found heartbreaking and infuriating at the same time.

"You have _no idea_ how to act like a decent human being, do you? No idea at all."

He was silent for a long time then looked up at her solemnly.

"Maybe you're right, when it comes to that part of my life at least. Meeting May and working with her- it appealed to my very worst instincts. But I stopped myself, Teresa. I started down that path and I turned _back_. I don't want to be that person anymore…"

He took another step forward and locked eyes with her. His penetrating stare was almost too much for her to bear, but she was determined to hold her tears at bay.

"I have a lot to figure out, and maybe I'm not quite the person you thought I was. But I am trying… You _know_ that."

Her eyes glistened and he reached out to brush her cheek with his hand. But as sincere as he sounded and as much as she wished she could just fall into his arms and accept him at face value, she simply couldn't.

She stepped backwards, bristling at his touch.

"No, Jane. I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

"Teresa-"

"I just need you to go, alright? I need you to leave right now." Her voice was shaky and she hated herself for how weak she sounded.

"Please, let me stay," he began gently. "We need to talk, work this out."

"No, we don't," she replied tersely, the dormant anger rising to the surface once again. "What I need… is for you leave. Right now."

Jane nodded in quiet resignation, and without another word, turned around and walked out the door.

 **Okay, so was Lisbon too hard on Jane here? Personally I don't think so, but I'm curious to know your thoughts. I was thinking about the S4 episode "Pretty Red Balloon" in which the CBI was investigating a case involving one of Jane's former clients, and he talked about the years he spent "selling hope". Lisbon's response was something about hope being worth "any price", and this always struck me as a little OOC for her, that she would condone this kind of deceptive behavior. Maybe others see it differently?**


	17. Chapter 17

**I have to say straight away how amazing it has been for me to write this story and contribute to TM fandom on this site. With every chapter, I am continuously amazed and heartened by the support I've received from readers and other writers alike. It has been incredible.**

 **I intended to wrap things up in this installment but couldn't quite do it. I do hope you enjoy this little chapter!**

 **Chapter 17**

Three days.

It had been three days since Jane had left the café, and she hadn't seen a trace of him nor heard from him since. At least a few times a day she'd glance across the street at the thought (or hope?) of seeing some sign of life coming from his shop. But, the place remained dark and tightly shuttered, the curtains drawn and blinds closed.

Not that she was ready to talk to him or see him again quite yet. She was still angry, though perhaps more at herself than she was at him. So much for having her radar up, she fumed silently to herself; so much for being clearheaded and objective. Teresa Lisbon considered herself to be a pretty decent judge of character, of being able to see through the b.s. that routinely got thrown her way as a cop. But, here she had ignored her initial instincts about Jane and allowed herself to be completely blindsided by the man; her pride was hurt just as much as her heart.

She knew that if she saw him now, her temper would get the better of her, and she'd end up saying something that would make the situation worse than it already was. But, what was the situation, exactly? She was leaving Cannon River in a matter of days, and yet everything with him was hanging in midair. Was he still hoping to come with her? Did she _want_ him to? Could she accept the recent revelations about what he had done and move forward with him somehow? Or, would she simply do what she always did whenever a relationship went south- simply pick herself up, dust herself off, and push forward until the whole debacle was nothing but a distant memory. The latter would certainly be a more familiar course of action, she mused, though Lisbon had the distinct feeling that in this case forgetting Jane would be much easier said than done.

Grace had been eyeing her cautiously throughout the day. Jane, who over the past several weeks had become an almost daily fixture at the café, had been noticeably absent as of late. She knew something was up but wisely said nothing. Teresa realized that her tenuous emotional state must really be obvious if her normally chatty friend was giving her space and keeping so silent on the subject.

At the end of the workday after closing up the shop, she decided to head down to the cove and sit for a while before trudging up the hill home. She wove her way along the dirt path that shot off the main road, through the wild hydrangea and tall grass until she came to one of the weather-worn benches facing the water. She flopped down, exhaled loudy and closed her eyes, hoping the rhythmic pounding of the waves would drown out every anxious thought in her head.

She had been sitting there for only a few minutes when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Teresa?"

Lisbon turned around to see Samantha Barsocky standing several feet away.

"Hi, Sam."

The older woman smiled warmly, took a few steps forward and motioned towards the bench. "Mind if I join you for a minute?"

"Sure," Lisbon nodded and moved her bag over to make room on the seat beside her. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, and Teresa shifted her feet awkwardly, wondering which one of them would be the first to broach the topic that was clearly on both of their minds. She was relieved, then, when Sam broke the ice with a completely different subject instead.

"You know, Pete and I had our honeymoon here."

"You did?" Teresa smiled back.

"Yep. More than twenty years ago, stayed in that old rinky dink motel over there," she answered with a small laugh as she pointed across the water to other side of the bay. "It was the shabbiest little place you've ever seen, but we didn't mind… We knew this little town was special, even back then; decided that if we ever left the circuit and settled down somewhere for good, this'd be the place."

Teresa brushed a wayward strand of hair that was blowing across her face behind one ear then crossed her arms in front of her almost sullenly. "Yeah, I'm going to miss this place, more than I thought I would."

"When do you leave?"

"Um, end of the week, not sure exactly."

The two women sat quietly for another minute before Sam spoke again. There was no avoiding the uncomfortable topic any longer.

"You know, Teresa…" Sam began carefully, "I don't know exactly what happened between you and Patrick- he's been holed up in that Airstream of his the past few days and hasn't said a word to me. But, Pete told me about some scam he had been cooking up, working over some woman here in town."

"Yeah," Lisbon answered back in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I imagine that must have been a bit of a shock to you, finding out about that," Sam responded sympathetically with a slow shake of her head. "You didn't realize the lengths he goes to sometimes."

"No, I didn't." Teresa choked out a bitter laugh. "I sure have had blinders on when it's come to him, haven't I?"

She stopped herself before continuing and looked over at the woman sitting next to her.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I know he's your friend, but I just don't understand how he could do something like that, capitalizing on another person's suffering the way he did… I guess I had no idea what he was really capable of."

"Well, from what Pete has said, it sounds like Patrick actually _wasn't_ capable of it, that he backed out of the deal and didn't go through with it."

Lisbon nodded in concession. "He told me he changed his mind and didn't take any money from the woman; I know that's true. But, he spent weeks plotting and planning to do it… and the idea that he could be so callous and methodical, that he would even _consider_ following though on something like that- it just makes me sick every time I think about it."

She shifted her body forward, resting her elbows on her knees and casting her eyes down to the ground in front of her feet. "It's like all this time I never saw the person Jane really is."

Sam let out a heavy sign. "Well, I don't think that's the case. There's a side of him he kept from you, that's for sure, and I won't defend him on that count. But the fact that he backed out of the deal? That he couldn't go through with it? I don't think the Patrick Jane who rolled into town a few months ago would have made the same decision. And you and I both know the reason why _that_ might be."

Sam eyed Teresa meaningfully and waited patiently for her response.

Lisbon looked back at her with an incredulous expression. "Are you saying that I changed him?"

"No," she countered quickly. "I don't think a person can ever _change_ someone else. But, I _do_ believe you've given him the courage to finally step up; to be the man he was always meant to be, the person who's been inside him all this time."

Sam held Teresa's gaze intently before breaking into a wry smile.

"Don't get me wrong: I have no illusions about the man," she began drolly. "He can be difficult and exhausting a lot of the time. He always has to be the smartest person in the room- and make sure everyone around him knows it. I swear that man's got an ego that could fill an entire ocean…"

Lisbon snorted a wry laugh at Sam's all-too-accurate description.

"But, beneath all that," Sam's tone was solemn once again, "underneath the swagger and bravado, is one of the sweetest, kindest people I have ever known in my life. And he's determined, too. Once he's set his mind to something, there is nothing stopping him.

"You should have seen him a few weeks ago, when he came home and told us he was going to Portland with you." Sam grinned at the recollection. "The boy was positively giddy, like he suddenly had the whole world at his feet. He was rattling off ideas about the things he wanted to do, the professions he might want to try his hand at. I knew right then- he was _finally_ ready to let go of his past, which is especially hard to do considering the world he came from… and the old man he grew up with."

Teresa nodded soberly. Based on the bitterness in Sam's voice as she spoke her last words and the little Jane had told her about his father, Lisbon had no doubt this was true. Knowing how hard it had been to move on from the damage inflicted upon her by her own father, she couldn't help but feel some compassion for him in this regard, despite her present confusion and anger towards him.

After a beat, Sam spoke again softly.

"Patrick loves you."

Teresa glanced over at her with a wide, gaping stare.

"I don't know if he's told you that yet, but it's pretty obvious to Pete and me from the way he looks at you whenever the two of you are together; or just from the sound of his voice when he talks about you.

"And, I don't know where your feelings are at," she leaned in reassuringly with a smirk, "and I'm not going make you tell me..."

Sam's smile softened and she paused again.

"But, if you _do_ love him- or even if you just think you _might_ \- I hope you can find a way to look past what he's done… and see him for the man he is and is trying to be now."

Lisbon looked back at her with glassy eyes and nodded silently as Sam stood to leave.

"Whatever you decide- you make sure to come and see me and say goodbye before you go, alright?"

"Of course I will, Sam," she replied with a slight stammer, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Thank you."

Sam cast one last warm smile down at her, then walked away slowly, leaving Lisbon alone on the bluff once more.

xxxxxx

Pete gave the Airstream door a few quick raps and sighed in frustration as he waited for Jane to answer.

"Come on Patrick, I know you're in there."

Inside, Jane yanked the blanket off his face and squinted at the blinding light coming through the thin curtains of the windows. He groaned audibly, knowing that Pete wouldn't just give up and just leave him alone, then flung himself out of bed and padded barefoot across the room. He swung the creaky door open to greet his friend.

"'Morning, Pete," he yawned, rubbing his bleary eyes gingerly.

"Afternoon's more like it," he replied gruffly as he stepped inside the trailer, not bothering to wait for an invitation. He seated himself down on the chair closest to the door and regarded the younger man's disheveled appearance- especially the rumpled t-shirt and dress pants that had obviously been slept in for several days- with another heavy sigh.

"What are you doin' in here, Paddy?" he asked, his voice filled with equal parts sympathy and frustration.

"Well, I'm making some tea," Jane replied in a tired but breezy tone as he made his way over to the small stove. He grasped the kettle and held it up pointedly before turning on the faucet to fill it. "Would you like some?"

"No, and you know that's _not_ what I was asking," he countered swiftly. "So, how about you stop with the evasive maneuvers and sit down for a minute. Let's talk."

Jane couldn't help but smirk at his old friend's insistence. If it had been anyone else, Jane probably would have laughed in their face, or made some pithy little comment to avoid the conversation altogether. But, he knew that his reclusive behavior the last several days had probably been genuinely concerning to both Pete and Sam, and he felt he owed it to his friend to at least hear him out. He set the kettle down and perched himself on the edge of the mattress opposite from where Pete was sitting, then leaned forward and raked his fingers through his unruly blonde curls. He turned towards Pete expectantly.

"You've been hiding out here for the last five days, Patrick. Enough is enough." Pete's voice was firm but gentle. "You need to get yourself cleaned up, haul your ass into town, and go talk to that girl of yours. Straighten this whole thing out."

"Just like that, huh?" Jane was dubious, and he shook his head miserably. He breathed in deeply before continuing, his voice pained and deliberate.

"You weren't there, Pete. You didn't see the look on her face when she confronted me about May. It was like… I was some kind of monster to her. She is _not_ ready to see me yet."

"Well, I'm not saying it'll be easy," Pete conceded with the shrug of his broad shoulders. "She's angry and she's hurt, and that can't be fixed with just a wink and a smile from your pretty face... But this pity party of yours has gone on far too long, my friend- and the clock is ticking."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sam ran into her a few days ago. Teresa mentioned she was leaving town soon, at the end of this week she said."

"No, no that can't be right," Jane began hesitantly, furrowing his brow in confusion. "When we talked about leaving, it wasn't going to be until _next_ week, at the earliest."

"Yeah, well, her plans have changed then," Pete replied, shaking his head, "because she is getting ready to go _now_."

Jane stood up abruptly and began pacing in agitation, his head spinning madly. After a few frenetic turns around the room, he turned to face Pete suddenly again.

"What day it today?" After spending the last several days nearly catatonic and now in his present state of distress, he genuinely couldn't remember.

"Thursday."

"Thursday?" he repeated frantically, then quickly strode to the closet and began grabbing a fresh set of clothes and towel off the shelves and hangers. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Pete chuckle lightly, clearly amused by the sudden shift in his mood and behavior.

"Can I borrow your truck?" he questioned hurriedly before ducking in the bathroom to shower and change.

"By all means. I'll get out of you way here and go fetch the keys." Pete replied with an affable smile as he got up to exit the tiny trailer.

xxxx

Ten minutes later Jane was behind the wheel of the old pickup speeding his way towards Cannon River. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he cruised down the highway, trying to quell the nervous energy coursing through his veins. As he got closer to his destination, he realized that for someone so adept at reading people and anticipating their reactions, he had no idea as to how Teresa would react when she saw him. He didn't even know what he was going say when he saw her.

But, at the moment, it didn't really matter to him. The only thing that _was_ important was seeing her and talking to her after so many days of agonizing silence; saying and doing whatever he needed to convince her to give him another chance.

When he reached town a few minutes later, he parked the truck at the first available spot he found, jumped out, and hurried across the road. He slowed his pace as he neared the café, getting his nervous, raged breathing under control and smoothing down the front of his hastily buttoned vest. The excitement of seeing her again brought a tentative, hopeful smile to his lips. Even if she yelled at him or threw him out of the place, at least he was _doing_ something.

His face fell and his heart sank into his chest, however, as he approached the café's giant front window and peered inside.

Standing behind the counter, smiling and laughing with Grace and a group of customers gathered nearby, was a tan, older gentlemen whose face Jane immediately recognized from the handful of photographs he had seen of him.

Virgil Minelli was back.

And Teresa was gone.

 **Conclusion and epilogue up next!**


	18. Chapter 18: Conclusion and Epilogue

**So, here it is… the conclusion and epilogue of this (not so little) little story of mine.**

 **Without the encouragement from all of you reading and offering supportive words along the way, I know I wouldn't have had been able to finish this. It has meant more to me than I can express, so thank you once again! I'm grateful to have had the chance to carve out my own little place in TM fandom on this site- you guys really are the best.**

 **When I first began, it was just the basic "Music Man" premise, along with a bunch of random ideas- scenes, subplots, or just little moments I envisioned and wanted to puzzle together somehow. Most pieces found their way in; some did not. I still feel bad about never quite finding a role for Cho and Rigsby like I planned... or the May/Minelli romance I was hoping to squeeze in towards the end. But, I suppose that's the way it goes.**

 **Having never really written a story before, I wrestled with how to wrap this one up- I hope you all enjoy it and find it to be a fitting, satisfying conclusion!**

 **Okay, enough with my sentimental ramblings… here it is.**

 **Chapter 18**

Jane gazed through the window in stunned disbelief, then backed away hastily before he was seen. He walked back to Pete's truck in a daze, mindlessly put the keys into the ignition and pulled the pickup into the street, starting down the highway that led out of town. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to get away; find someplace to be alone and contemplate what had happened.

He had blown it, he thought morosely. He had waited too long, spent days wallowing in fear and self-hatred, and now Lisbon was gone. Was she on her way to Portland at this very moment? Was she already there? An image of her stoically piling boxes into the back of her SUV and driving over the mountains towards the valley popped into his brain. He could imagine it so vividly- her putting on her bravest face and soldiering on, settling back into the little downtown apartment she had described to him. She was returning to a job she loved but had been apart from for so long that he knew she was a little anxious about finding her footing again. He had been looking forward to the prospect of supporting her as she reentered her old life, while at the same time exploring what was for him a new city and finding a niche in it for himself. They were going to be partners, embarking on an adventure, a fresh start for the both of them. But, now it seemed to be nothing but a pipe dream, laid in ruins because of his selfish decisions, brooding nature and (for the last several days) stupid inaction.

He drove the winding road along the rugged coastline for a few miles, paying little attention to the majestic scenery around him. But when he looked ahead and noticed the sign indicating the turnoff that led to the cape, he immediately slowed the truck down and turned onto the dusty road that snaked its way up the steep incline toward the lookout point high above the water. He knew exactly where he wanted to go.

It was a familiar place, of course. He and Teresa had explored it on foot during their hike weeks earlier. The vivid memories of that day flooded his mind as he parked the truck and began making his way up the dirt path toward the stone shelter the two of them had discovered together. He smiled wistfully at the recollection of that afternoon- the natural, easy rapport they had, even in those early days of getting to know one another; how she had gently coaxed him up the hill and teased him about his exhausted physical state as they neared the top; and of course, the passionate interlude they had shared within the tiny building before being interrupted by the rambunctious children and their parents.

Now as he entered the shadowy enclosure and seated himself on the cold stone bench inside, he felt hollow and raw. He closed his eyes to the dull roar of the waves and the faint calls of sea lions and gulls on the rocks far below. He breathed in the salty air coming through the opening of the wall, his thoughts of Lisbon playing over and over in his head as if on some tortuous loop. And it wasn't just memories of her that were racing through his mind, but also thoughts about what he should do next. Hop into Pete's truck and chase after her? Go pump Grace for information that might help him win her back? He was uncharacteristically paralyzed by indecision once again, just as he had been for the last five days holed up in his Airstream.

He leaned his head back against the rock wall behind him and sat in silence for several moments until the sound of approaching footsteps on the trail snapped him to attention. He sat up and opened his eyes, glancing towards the door as the figure approached. A silhouette darkened the doorway, one that he immediately recognized, filling him with a mixture of wonder and joy so overwhelming it made him catch his breath and inhale sharply.

It was her.

"Hey," Teresa greeted him softly, her hands tucked awkwardly into the front pockets of her jeans. Her own surprise at seeing him kept her frozen in the doorway for second or two then she cautiously stepped inside until they were just a few feet from one another.

"Hey," he echoed on a sigh. He felt his chest rise and fall steadily before finding his voice again. "What are you doing here?"

She responded with a questioning, somewhat confused look.

"You didn't go to Portland," he added obviously.

"No, I didn't…" she replied with the shake of her head. She eyed him patiently as he continued to take her in and marvel at her mere presence in front of him. She didn't look _unhappy_ to see him, but beyond that, he found the expression on her face exceptionally difficult to read at the moment, his own emotions clearly affecting his normally astute powers of observation.

"I came by your work…to find you earlier," he began haltingly. "I looked inside and saw Virgil Minelli was there."

"Yeah," Teresa noticeably relaxed, her face breaking out into a wide grin. "He got back the night before last. He was so excited to see his old friends and the regulars he decided to come in and work the lunch shift for me, gave me the afternoon off…"

Her face fell sharply. "You thought I had left… that I was gone for good?"

He nodded simply.

"So, why did you come to see me?" she asked after a beat as she sat down beside him, setting her pack on the floor next to her feet. Her voice was tentative, but her eyes were clear and strong. "What were you going to say?"

He looked over and studied her. Her expression was softening, exuding a warmth and compassion that emboldened him to speak the truth that he had been ruminating on for days, weeks even. He swallowed hard.

"I came to tell you that you were right." He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head slightly as he continued. "I don't know how to act like a decent human being a lot of the time. And I play games, and I lie, and I trick people… And I could sit here and make excuses, chalk it up to my lousy upbringing and never learning any better. But the truth, Teresa, is that I've just been too lazy and too selfish to do things any differently- for so long now."

He turned his body towards hers, gazing at her fervently.

"But, I'm _finally_ ready, to leave all that behind me- like that that whole thing with May- I don't want to do that anymore. I _can't_ do it anymore." He leaned in closer. "I need you to know that."

"I do- know that," Lisbon interjected quietly with a slow nod, her emerald green irises pooling with emotion. "I believe you, Jane… and I believe _in_ you."

"Do you?" he answered on a small chuckle; he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. He kept his eyes trained on hers as she smiled faintly and nodded her head.

He took another stealing breath.

"I want to build a real life for myself, Teresa- with you in it, if you'll have me."

She nodded again and smiled through unshed tears. "I want that, too."

Relief and happiness flooded his entire body. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Jane leaned forward, bridging the distance between them, and kissed her soundly. His hands came to the sides of her face, cupping it gently, and her fingers laced lightly with his. After so many agonizing days apart, the feel of her lips and every inch of her skin that made contact with his enlivened and awakened him, like he was emerging from the dense fog. When they broke apart moments later, he could feel the corners of her mouth quirk upward in a smile that mirrored his own and he kept his face close to hers.

"You know I am going to do everything in my power _not_ to screw this up." His voice was lighter but he tightened his grip on their clasped hands, and he knew she could read the urgency and sincerity in his words. "I'll probably aggravate and annoy you a lot of the time. I might do things that will make you question your faith in me…"

"Are you trying to talk me out of this?" she broke in jokingly.

"No, God, no. I just want to make sure you understand what you're getting yourself into here," he continued. "I can be a bit of a handful; I get myself into a fair amount of trouble from time to time," he added with the waggle of his brow.

Lisbon smirked and the narrowed her eyes. "Well, I think I can handle it," she replied before adding dryly, "especially once I get my sidearm back."

"Ah, threats of violence, Lisbon, very nice. Thank you." They shared a brief laugh, then their eyes met tenderly. They gazed at one another for a moment before a thought suddenly occurred to him. "I almost forgot- I have something for you."

He reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in brown paper, which he placed carefully into her hands.

"What is this?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Just something I picked up for you last week. You know, before you threw me out of your shop and told me you never wanted to see me again" he answered in a casual, self-deprecating tone.

She responded with a quick smack on his arm then began gently unwrapping the loose layers of paper and tissue in her lap. He watched her face expectantly as she pulled back the last layer and discovered what was inside- a large, speckled cowry shell, glassy and smooth, a perfect fit in the palm of her tiny hand. She turned it over a few times, admiring the intricate patterns on its porcelain-like surface and inspecting its scalloped edges on its bottom. Then she looked back at Jane curiously.

"How did you know-?"

"You had your eye on it at Sam's store a while back," he answered with a knowing smirk of his own.

All Lisbon could do was tilt her head and sigh in astonishment as he brought his arm around her shoulder and pulled her body to his. As she laid her cheek against his chest, he couldn't help but add cheekily:

"You may not know this about me, Lisbon, but I have a bit of knack for noticing and remembering things."

He felt her begin to shake her head in annoyance and although he couldn't see her face from the angle he was sitting at, he was almost certain she was rolling her eyes at him.

 **Epilogue**

Three weeks later, Lisbon and Jane left Cannon River.

They could have left sooner, but seeing as Lisbon wasn't due back at her job until the following month, they decided to stay and soak up as much time with their friends as possible. Jane was especially grateful for their delayed departure, as it afforded him the opportunity to spend some time with Virgil and get to know him better. He was, after all, the closest thing Lisbon had to a father, so Jane was determined to make a good impression.

For his part, Minelli was naturally a bit reticent at first- his protective nature made him a little suspicious of the man who had so quickly captured Lisbon's affections. But, trusting in Teresa's good judgment and seeing how happy Jane seemed to make her her, Virgil made a sincere effort to get to know Jane as well. The two men eventually bonded over their shared love of poker and deep sea fishing, and along with Pete, they made several excursions on Minelli's sailboat in the weeks before Jane and Lisbon left town. The seeds of what would become a deep and abiding friendship amongst the three men were planted, and it was a development that made everyone- especially Lisbon- extremely happy.

The night before they departed, Minelli hosted a farewell dinner at the café after closing. Everyone came: Sam and Pete drove in from the campground, Wayne and Grace were there with Cho; even Wylie came by with his new girlfriend. The festivities went late into the evening. There were plenty of laughs, thanks to Sam and Pete's animated storytelling and a few tears courtesy of Grace (although, as Lisbon noted afterwards, she _had_ managed to hold herself together admirably well until the goodbye hugs began, at which point even Lisbon's own steely resolve began to weaken). By the time Lisbon and Jane had loaded the last of their belongings into the back of her car and his Airstream early the next morning, the two of them were emotionally drained but at the same time excited about what lay ahead.

A few weeks after arriving in Portland, Lisbon returned to her job as detective in the downtown precinct. She felt a little rusty at first, but after a few weeks back with her old colleagues and some extra hours at the shooting range, she was back in top form in no time at all. Most days when she came home from work, Jane was there to greet her. He had set up the Airstream at a campsite on the outskirts of town just like he had planned, and while that _was_ his official residence to start, it wasn't long before he had a key to her place, and his suits and favorite teas had found a permanent place in her closets and cupboards.

As summer turned to fall, he was still mulling over his professional options- getting his credentials to obtain a PI's license was the current project at hand, although his beekeeping book still had a conspicuous presence on their coffee table, much to Lisbon's chagrin. Then, one night over dinner he took a glance at a cold case file Teresa had brought home from the office. It piqued his interest, as any good puzzle did, and curious to see what a fresh set of eyes could make of it, she encouraged him have a go at it. He examined the crime scene photos, combed over the witness statements, and soon made quick work of noticing several minute, yet key details the reporting officer had missed. After the pair of them talked it through late into the night, piecing it all together, Lisbon brought the information to her lieutenant, Samuel Bosco, the next morning and within days, the case was closed.

By Thanksgiving, Lisbon had convinced Bosco to take a chance on Jane and bring him in as a consultant on an as-needed basis. The closure rate in their division skyrocketed, and by late December, just as Jane and Lisbon were preparing for their trip to spend the holidays with their friends in Cannon River, he was officially offered a position at the police bureau full-time. It thrilled him to no end; not only did the job give him the chance to put his "psychic" skills to good use, but it also meant spending even more time with Teresa.

On Christmas Eve day, they fought their way through the snarly city traffic until they reached the winding road that brought them over the foothills and mountains west of town. After over an hour of driving, they finally reached the coast, where the sun was just beginning to set over the blue-gray waters of the Pacific. As Jane turned the car to begin heading south towards their final destination, he smiled at the memory of the first time he had seen this particular view. It wasn't that long ago, and yet considering everything that happened since, it felt like a lifetime.

Lisbon, who had been lulled asleep by the winding, twisty ride over the mountain pass, was now slowly waking up; she opened her eyes groggily. "Where are we?"

"We're almost there," he answered quietly. "Just another thirty miles or so- and we'll be home."

A contented expression crept over her face upon hearing the word _home_ then she glanced over at him sleepily. "What are you grinning at?" she asked as she tilted her head up towards him, noticing the lingering smile on his face.

"Oh, I was just thinking about the last time I drove along this little stretch here, on my way to Cannon River last spring," he began, then looked backed at her tenderly. "I had no idea what- or _who_ \- was waiting for me when I got there…" he laughed lightly, "and yet I was in such a hurry that day, I didn't even stop to look at the sunset."

She returned his affectionate gaze before answering softly. "Well, why don't we stop and look at it now?"

He nodded in agreement and pulled the car to the shoulder of the highway. They got out and walked over to the edge of the bluff overlooking the dunes, immediately wrapping their arms around each another, buffering themselves from the gusts of wind whipping around them. Despite the bone-chilling cold, they stood there for a minute or two taking in the beauty of their surroundings, and he stole a quick kiss before pulling her in closer.

He could have stayed there much longer, but when he felt her body start to shiver against his, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Let's get going, love. If we're late for Christmas dinner, Wayne Rigbsy will have eaten all of the yams."

Lisbon laughed, "Yeah, I think you're right. The pies, too."

Then, with their arms still encircling one another, they made the quick jaunt back to the car, where they hopped in hurriedly, and continued on their way towards home.

 **The End**


End file.
